Then she comes up for breath and shoves me down, roughly, no longer absorbed with consideration. I stroke her with my tongue, hands clamped over her thighs, using the guidance of her hand in my hair to work out where she needs me to go.
Her thighs clamp me tightly as she gives a low groan. I push my tongue into her, but she squeezes me harder for a second, then tugs me up for air. “More. I need something more.”
I desperately want to sink my cock into her, pulsing with need to the point of pain. I know I could push her back on the bed and convince her to take me.
But I think of how she came for me the very first time and change direction. While my tongue whirls around her clit, dancing as it grows ever more sensitive, I slip a finger inside her, panting breaths my sign of approval.
“More,” Nadia whispers and I oblige, stroking her like I’ve still got another half dozen packages to retrieve and am short of time to do it. I add a second finger, then another, alternating between pulses of movement, in and out, and stretching them apart to give her more sensation.
The contractions hit my tongue before I hear her cry, the hand in my hair drags at it with an exquisite burst of pain, then turns weak and falls away while her pelvis jerks out the aftermath of her orgasm.
She draws her legs together, sitting up and grabbing hold of me again to mash her lips against mine, clumsy in her afterglow.
I cradle her head against me, stroking her hair and feeling the deep pleasure of giving someone a gift that thoroughly delights them.
When she pulls back, rubbing her palms on her thighs and twisting her neck from side to side to stretch out the muscles, I get to my feet.
Then she kneels on the bed, sliding her hand up to my neck, and smiling sweetly. “Did I say you were finished?”
I shake my head, slowly falling back to my knees.
“That’s better,” she whispers against the crook of my neck, sending a cascade of sparks across my body. “You can’t expect me to form a judgement on just one try, can you?”
“No.”
“No,” she agrees, a devilish glint in her eye. She pushes my head down far more roughly than before, a lesson I didn’t think she would be teaching me tonight. “Another one, please. Then I’ll think about letting you back on the bed, not before.”
I hide my grin between her thighs, my jaw starting to burn from the motion but in a pleasant way, the same way it feels so good to work out until I’m on the edge of exhaustion.
A burst of fickleness leads her into another sharp turn when she abruptly changes her mind a few minutes into service and demands I return to lie on the bed beside her. Her eyes are glassy with pleasure as her eyes drink their fill of me again. So heavy that their travels feel like a physical caress.
My need is so extreme that when she finally lowers her wet warm centre onto my throbbing aching cock, I’m immediately close to the edge, something she reads from me as easily as she reads so much else.
“No,” she says, gripping my chin in her hands and staring me straight in the eye. “Not until I tell you.”
And the command does something strange deep in my brain, turning the option of obedience into an imperative. I wouldn’t be able to go against her wishes even if I wanted to. It feels like she holds a control for every cell in my body in her hands.
She rocks, controlling her pace according to her own needs, finally lifting my hands from the bed and placing them on her body, letting me clasp hold of her hips as her movements pick up speed, as her breath turns into panting, as her muscles clench around me, tighter, tighter, until they convulse in spasms of pleasure and she moves my hands to her breasts, squeezing, moulding, before she stretches forward, taking my mouth in a long kiss, biting my lower lip between her teeth and drawing back until it finally pops free.
“Now.”
And I wrap my arms so tightly around her I could double as a vice. Following her command like I’m a star student seeking a gold star.
CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
NADIA
The first time I wake,Kai’s arms are around me and I snuggle closer, falling promptly back to sleep. The second time, he’s gone, leaving a giant-sized gap where he should be.
I roll onto my back, trying to stay in the moment. I can hear him moving things around in the car outside, the pattern of his distinctly heavy tread already mapped in my brain.
He offered to kill my husband. The gratitude I felt at that statement still rests inside me, never mind he came on the scene a decade late. The gap between then and now stretches as widely as the gap between our ages, a space that feels less important with each passing hour in his company.
And yes, we’re here together for a short time, maybe not even outlasting today. And no, I’m not going to waste the precious hours we have moping about how the rest of my life is so empty in comparison.
I roll over, my eyes closing despite themselves. A derelict teenager rocks up in my brain, insisting on just five minutes more and for once I listen.
Five minutes.
