“So wet already,” he muses. “All this is for me?”
“Yes.”
He rewards me with a long, slow lick from my entrance to my clit. I grab fistfuls of the sheets and force myself to stay still.
He takes his time. Exploring me with his tongue like he’s memorizing every fold, every ridge, every sensitive spot that makes me gasp. He circles my clit but never touches it, building the pressure until I’m writhing beneath him.
“Pyotr, please?—”
“Please, what?” He blows a stream of cool air across my heated flesh, and I whimper.
“I need more.”
“Tell me what you need.”
“Your mouth. On my clit. Please.”
He seals his lips over the bundle of nerves and sucks hard. I cry out and arch off the bed as pleasure shoots through me like lightning.
He slides two fingers inside me while his tongue works my clit in tight circles. I feel myself climbing, the pressure building low in my belly.
“Not yet,” he commands against my flesh. “You don’t come until I say.”
I whine in protest, but I force myself to hold back. He pumps his fingers in and out, curling them to hit that spot deep inside me that makes stars burst behind my eyes.
“Every time he hurt you,” Pyotr says between strokes, “he signed his death warrant. Do you understand?”
“Yes—”
“Every scar on your body is a reason I will destroy him. Do you understand?”
“Yes, yes?—”
“And every time I touch you from now on, I want you to remember that you’re mine. Not his. Mine to protect. Mine to pleasure. Mine to worship.” He adds a third finger and increases the pace. “Do you understand?”
“I understand, please, Pyotr, please let me?—”
“Come for me. Now.”
The orgasm crashes through me, and I scream his name as my body convulses. He doesn’t stop working me through wave after wave until I’m sobbing and gasping for air.
Only then does he crawl up my body and position himself at my entrance. “Eyes on me.”
I meet his eyes, still trembling from the aftershocks.
“You’re going to feel how much I want you, Daria. How much I need you. How much I—” He stops himself.
“How much you what?”
He doesn’t answer with words. He just pushes inside me, slowly and deeply, until he’s buried to the hilt.
We both groan as he fills me, stretching me in a way that borders on too much but never crosses the line.
And then, he starts to move in long, slow strokes that pull almost all the way out before sliding back in. This is different from the last time we were together. This is reverent. Every thrust is a promise. Every roll of his hips is a vow.
I wrap my legs around his waist and pull him deeper. He groans and drops his forehead to mine.
“You feel incredible,” he breathes. “So tight. So perfect.”
