He looks up at me, and the hunger in his eyes makes my words die. "I know I don't have to. I want to. I want to taste every part of you,milaya. I want you to come on my tongue before I fuck you full of my cum."
"Okay," I whisper.
He smiles, the first real smile I've seen from him, and then his mouth is on me.
I cry out, my hands flying to his hair as pleasure crashes through me. He's relentless, his tongue working me with devastating precision, like he already knows exactly what I need, exactly how to get me there.
My hips rise off the bed, seeking more, and he holds me down with one strong hand splayed across my stomach. The other hand joins his mouth, his fingers sliding into me, curling, finding a spot that makes me see stars.
"Renat, oh God, Renat—"
"That's it," he murmurs against me. "Say my name. Let me hear you."
The pleasure builds and builds, tighter and tighter, until I'm trembling on the edge. His fingers move faster, his tongue more insistent, and then—
I shatter.
The orgasm rips through me, so intense I actually scream. He works me through it, drawing out every last shudder until I'm boneless and gasping.
When he finally pulls back, his lips are wet and his eyes are wild.
"Mine," he growls, crawling up my body. "Every sound you just made. Mine."
I can only nod, still trying to remember how to breathe.
He stands just long enough to strip off his jeans and boxer briefs, and my breath catches at the sight of him. Every part of him is huge.
"I'll go slow," he promises, settling between my thighs again. "I'll make it good for you."
"It's already good." I reach up and cup his face. "I chose this. I chose you. Now show me what that means."
His jaw clenches, and then he's pushing into me. Slow, like he promised, giving me time to adjust to his size.
It burns. It's too much. It's perfect.
"Breathe," he coaches, leaning back and watching my face. "Just breathe,milaya."
I do, and gradually the burn fades into something else. Something that makes me need more.
"More," I beg. "Please more."
He pulls almost all the way out before pushing back in. Slow, deep strokes that make me feel every, thick inch of him.
"You feel like heaven," he groans. "Like you were made for me."
Maybe I was. Maybe this is what I've been running toward all along.
He increases his pace, and I wrap my legs around his waist, meeting him thrust for thrust with every rock of my hips. The pleasure builds again, different this time. Deeper. More intense.
"Look at me," he demands. "When you come, I want you looking right at me."
I force my eyes open, meeting that black gaze. He's beautiful like this, lost in pleasure, in me, his control finally shattering piece by piece.
"Say it one more time," he demands, his rhythm turning desperate. "Tell me."
"I'm yours," I gasp. "Yours, Renat, only yours—"
He captures my mouth in a brutal kiss as we both fall over the edge together, pleasure crashing through us in waves. Our bodies shuddering against one another.
