“Being here. Taking it in so easily. Still being…attracted to me?”
“You kiddin’?” He smiled and caressed her with his eyes, then with his words. “Told you you’re fuckin’ beautiful.”
She said, “I want to make you feel good,” and let her finger stroke him, a slow discovery in that same up-and-down cadence.
Another swallow. “Yeah?” He cleared his throat, and their eyes stayed fixed on her hand—so pale on his thick, dark cock. “I’d like that.”
Slowly, she lifted up and over him, admiring this body so alive and well lived-in, and planted her knees to lean down and kiss his belly before moving her mouth to his erection. He groaned when she kissed it gently, just the tip. The feel of it against her lips put her in charge again.
The tide shifted, with her taking control as he gave it. She rather liked that idea—a finite amount of power to be shared in infinite configurations—like a drop of mercury, separating and reshaping over and over again.
“Move back,” Uma ordered.
The view from where she kneeled was amazing. Layered over his physical perfection were the scars, each with its own story. A mere mortal in the body of a god. She’d call this photo something likeThe Beast Awaits, orAnticipation, or maybeWant. She’d probably need to take a dozen shots to capture it fully—a hundred. The physical aspect of him leaning back on his hands, arms straight, abs pushed into stark relief by the position, along with the warring emotions on his face: the desire, the raw want, with something darker underneath.
Her eyes flicked to where she’d left the camera two nights before. How could she have forgotten all about it lying there?
Should she?No. Enjoy the moment. This is too good, too real to filter.
She took the mental picture and stored it away for another time before leaning in and giving him what he wanted.
She marveled again at how good he smelled up close—like soap and smoke and metal.
“Did you take a shower?”
“Of a sort.” He chuckled, tilting his hips up so the head of his erection bumped her mouth.
She licked him. His taste was ambrosia—not the immediate satisfaction of a chocolate bar, but the subtler flavor of good, strong chemistry. It confirmed everything she’d ever heard about genetics and attraction. This was right; it was meant to be.
He let out a noise that would have been a whimper from a lesser man. Her mouth closed over his cock and pulled him deep.
They groaned in unison, a lascivious song of pleasure born deep in their bellies. Pleasuring him was heady, elemental. The only thing more satisfying would have been to sink herself onto him. She pulled and sucked and grazed with her teeth, tearing up and gagging when she accidentally took him in too far, but not minding for once. God, he was huge. Stiff and dark.
She lifted up and glanced at his face. Ivan was flushed and sleepy looking, but his eyes shone hungry and bright beneath heavy lids.
“It’s so good, baby,” he whispered. The approval was soothing, so wonderful that she continued to watch him as she moved to lick, teasing his head until he looked crazy. With another groan, he sank back onto one elbow and set a hand gently on her head. It was like a question.
“Suck me again. Please.”
She thought about teasing him for a bit longer but wasn’t quite sure how.I’ll have to work on my femme fatale routine.
Instead, she did as he asked, letting him fill her mouth, then nudge her throat. Uma had never done this before, taken someone in that far of her own volition. But with Ivan, she wanted it. She wanted him to fill every crack, every tiny little crevice Joey had created. She relaxed, and he sank in another centimeter. Up and down, but this time with suction, the next just tongue, another time with teeth. She learned him, played him like an instrument.
Who knew giving a blow job could be so enjoyable? It was amazing, unbelievable, atreat. She was lost in it. The in and out, the taste, the smell, and those fuckingsoundshe made. Uma owned his pleasure.
Without thought, she reached down and gently weighed his balls. She heard the moment he changed. Harsh breaths peppered with groans were forced from his throat, and the hand on her head finally grasped her hair, giving her the rhythm he needed. One pull, two, faster than she would have done it on her own, three, and he tugged her up.
“Stop, stop, you gotta stop.”
“No.” She went back for more.
“I wanna fuck you again, Uma. I wanna look at your face when you come. Please.Please.”
What was it about the sound of Ivan begging? Who needed water or food or even air? God, she could live off that sound.
With a seesawing motion, she leaned back, pulling him with her until he was on top. He hovered over her, taking her in, memorizing her.
Why would he do that? Why would he want to? She nearly pushed him away or covered his eyes, but instead ignored the niggling doubt and accepted the perusal. Slowly, so slowly, he leaned into her and rubbed his chest against hers, nipple to nipple, and the crisp rasp of hair to skin, the rough brush of his thighs against hers. She shivered and pulled in a shaky breath.
