Heat shoots straight through me, pooling low in my stomach. His thumb traces my lower lip slowly, as if savoring the way it trembles beneath his touch. He kisses me again, slower this time, softer, but no less intense.
“Who are you?” I manage, though my breath hitches.
The robe slips off one shoulder. His gaze follows the movement, darkening even more. He lifts his hand and slides the fabric back into place, fingers grazing my skin with a tenderness that sends sparks along my spine.
“Samuil,” he says in a gravelly voice. “Tell me how you like to be touched. Or tell me if you want to stop.”
The words settle into me like warmth. Not a demand. Not force. Permission. A choice.
“I don’t want you to stop,” I whisper.
He exhales slowly, the sound almost a groan. He lifts me in his arms before I can blink, carrying me away from the window. He sets me on the edge of the chaise near the glass wall, the city spread behind us like a glittering veil. He kneels in front of me, hands sliding up my thighs beneath the robe.
His touch is warm. Reverent. He moves slowly, as if exploring, as if he needs to feel every inch of skin to convince himself I’m real. His fingers stroke upward, tracing circles that make my breath falter. The robe parts, exposing more of my legs, but he doesn’t rush. He watches my face, gauging every sound, every tremble. My body responds as if it knows him, as if it waited all its life for him to come along and please it.
He kisses the inside of my knee, slowly and devastatingly. My breath shudders. His hands glide up my thighs again, pushing the robe gently aside until the cool air hits skin that feels suddenly too sensitive.
He looks up at me with eyes that burn. “Now I want to taste you,” he murmurs.
“Please,” I gasp.
He leans in and kisses the soft skin of my inner thigh, then higher. I sigh, clutching the back of his neck. His hands spread my knees wider, the movement slow, almost coaxing. The heat of his mouth trails upward, sending waves through me that make my spine arch.
When his lips reach the spot he wants, he pauses, watching my reaction. “Tell me you want me to.”
I swallow, trembling. “I want you to.”
His mouth moves against me, and my breath leaves in a broken sigh. His tongue sweeps slowly, deliberately, tasting me. Pleasure rushes through me so fast I grip the edge of the chaise to steady myself. He works my clit with devastating control, savoring every sound I make. His hands tighten on my thighs, spreading me gently, guiding my hips as I begin to move against his mouth.
Heat coils low in my belly, building so fast it overwhelms me. I moan softly, unable to hold back, and he makes a sound against me that vibrates through me like a spark.
I come apart against his tongue, pleasure pulsing through me in waves so strong I can barely breathe. My head falls back, my body trembling as he keeps his mouth on me until the shuddering slows. When the waves finally ease, he kisses my inner thigh again, slow and possessive, before rising to his feet.
I look up at him, breathless, and see him watching me with a hunger that looks almost dangerous.
“Please,” I say again.
“Please, what?” he asks, smirking.
“Fuck me, Samuil,” I say, my voice so breathy it doesn’t even sound like mine.
His eyes darken and he slowly climbs on top of me, claiming my mouth again. I can taste myself on his tongue, and it sends my pulse spiking. Despite the incredible pleasure he’s already given me, my body is so keyed-up, tightly coiled like one wrong move might break me completely.
“This isn’t why I brought you to my home,” he murmurs as his lips trail down my neck.
“I don’t care,” I groan. “I need you inside me.”
He chuckles, and I can feel his smile against my skin. He pushes the robe off completely, taking a moment to stare at my naked body. A small part of me feels utterly self-conscious at how exposed I am in front of him, but my body heats under his stare. I need to know what he feels like inside of me. It’s the only thing I can consciously focus on.
My hands slide over his chest, carefully undoing each button of his expensive shirt. He shrugs it off quickly and starts working on his belt buckle as my hands roam over the hard planes of his chest.
“That feels unbelievable,” he sighs.
And then he’s naked, his massive, hard cock standing at attention right in front of my face. My jaw goes slack as I try to imagine taking all of that inside me.
“I…” I trail off, swallowing hard. “I’m not sure that’s going to fit,” I finally manage.
He smirks again, a look of triumph on his face. “I’ll go slow.”
