“You’re being cruel.” But there was no heat in it. Just desperate need.
He chuckled, the sound vibrating through me. “Not cruel. Thorough.”
Then his mouth was on me, and I stopped thinking entirely.
The first stroke of his tongue was gentle, exploratory. Learning me. I arched off the bench, my hands flying to his head. I didn’t know what to do with them so I just gripped his hair, probably too hard, but he didn’t seem to mind.
He made a sound of approval and did it again, this time firmer. More confident. His tongue moved in slow, deliberate strokes, and I felt pleasure build in a way I’d never experienced before.
I’d had sex. I wasn’t a virgin. But it had always been transactional. Quick. Something to scratch an itch or relieve stress. This was different. This was Baleck worshipping me with his mouth like he had all the time in the world.
“You taste incredible,” he murmured against me, and the vibration of his words sent fresh waves of sensation through me.
His hands gripped my thighs, holding me open. I could see the muscles in his arms flexing, the way his shoulders bunched with restraint. He was holding back. I could tell. Could see it in the tension of his body, the way his breathing had gone ragged.
His cock was clearly hard, visibly straining against his pants. I wondered what he looked like. What he’d feel like in my hand. In my mouth. Inside me.
The thought made me clench, and he groaned like he felt it.
“Baleck,” I gasped. “I need more…”
He sealed his mouth over my clit and sucked gently. Stars exploded behind my eyelids. My back arched completely off the bench, and I might have screamed if I’d had the breath for it.
He didn’t stop. His tongue circled and stroked, alternating pressure and speed like he was reading my body’s reactions. Learning what I liked. What made me writhe.
One hand left my thigh, and I felt his fingers at my entrance. He circled slowly, coating them in my wetness before slowly pushing one inside.
“Oh fuck,” I breathed.
“Yes?” The question was rough, strained. Like he was barely holding onto his control.
“Yes. God, yes.”
He pushed the finger deeper, then withdrew and added a second. The stretch was perfect. His mouth never left my clit, his tongue working in rhythm with the thrust of his fingers.
I was drowning in sensation. Overwhelmed. My hands gripped his hair harder, and I might have been making sounds I’d be embarrassed about later, but I didn’t care. Couldn’t care.
He curled his fingers inside me, finding a spot that made me see stars. Did it again. And again.
“That’s it,” he murmured. “Let go for me.”
His tongue moved faster, his fingers pumping steadily, and I felt myself climbing toward something bigger than I’d ever felt. The pleasure built and built, pressure coiling tight in my core.
I looked down at him and nearly came from the sight alone. His face between my thighs, his eyes closed in concentration, his skin glowing brilliant gold. The muscles in his back and shoulders were taut, every line of him radiating controlled power.
He was gorgeous. And he was mine.
That thought—he’s mine—sent me over the edge.
The orgasm slammed into me like a freight train. My entire body went rigid, then shook with waves of pleasure so intense I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Could only feel.
Baleck worked me through it, his mouth and fingers gentling but not stopping. Drawing it out until I was gasping and trembling and completely wrung out.
When I finally came back to myself, boneless and panting on the bench, he was pressing soft kisses to my inner thigh. His fingers had withdrawn, and he was just…holding me. Grounding me.
“Holy shit,” I managed.
He looked up at me and grinned. The expression was pure masculine satisfaction. “Good?”
