I growl low in her ear, voice rough with hunger. “You’re dripping for me, babe. Already.”
My hand is already moving, sliding between her thighs. I push one finger straight to her clit through the soaked fabric of her panties. She’s drenched—hot, slick, ready. The thin cotton clings to her, outlining every fold, every swollen inch.
Alena whimpers, hips jerking forward into my touch. Her breath hitches, eyes fluttering half-shut.
“Fuck, babe,” I growl against her ear, voice rough and thick. “You’re so wet already. All for me.”
She doesn’t answer with words. Instead she shoves me—hard—both hands flat against my chest.
I let her.
I fall back onto the bed, the mattress dipping under my weight. Before I can even prop myself up, she’s climbing over me, frantic, impatient. She yanks her panties aside, then drops down, straddling my face.
Fucking paradise.
Her thighs bracket my head, warm and trembling. The scent of her—sweet, dark, addictive—floods my senses. I grip her hips, fingers digging into soft flesh, and pull her down hard.
My tongue is on her instantly. Flat, broad licks up her slit. Then pointed, circling her clit, flicking, sucking. I devour her like a starving man. I want her to come. I want her to come hard. I want her to lose control, to flood my mouth, to squirt all over my face, to drown me in her.
I suck harder, tongue relentless, lapping at her entrance, then back to her clit. She grinds down, riding my face, chasing the pressure. Her moans are broken, desperate, filling the room.
Her thighs start to shake. Then they clamp—tight, iron-tight—around my head. She’s clenching, squeezing so hard I can barely breathe. Good. Choke me. Let her take everything.
She comes with a raw, shattered cry. Her whole body locks, hips bucking wildly. Wet heat gushes over my tongue, my chin, my cheeks. She’s squirting—hard, messy, perfect. I drink it up, greedy, lapping every drop, swallowing her down like she’s the only thing that matters.
Fuck yeah.
My cock has never felt harder. It’s throbbing, leaking, straining against my sweatpants like it’s trying to rip free. Every pulse is agony and need and triumph.
She’s mine.
And I’m nowhere near done.
She lifts just enough to let a rush of air fill my lungs, her thighs still trembling faintly around my ears, the heat of her skin radiating against my cheeks. Her release lingers on my tongue—salty-sweet, warm, with that dark, musky edge that's uniquely her, clinging to the inside of my mouth like a promise. The morning light slants through the curtains, catching the sheen of sweat on her inner thighs, making her glow like something forbidden and sacred all at once. I can feel the rapid flutter of her pulse against my lips where they still brush her sensitive flesh, and the scent of her arousal hangs heavy in the air, mixing with the faint trace of my cologne on her skin from last night.
I don't give her time to come down from it. My hands clamp around her hips—fingers splaying wide, digging into the soft give of her flesh with enough force to leave faint red imprints, the kind that'll bloom into bruises by evening. The warmth of her under my palms is intoxicating, her body pliant yet yielding, every curve fitting perfectly against my grip like she was carved for it. I yank her down the length of my body in one firm, deliberate pull, the drag of her slick skin against mine sending sparks up my arms. She gasps—a soft, startled hitch of breath that vibrates through her chest and straight into me—the sound raw and needy, like she's already chasing the next high.
I flip her onto her stomach without a word, the mattress dipping under the shift of our weight, the sheets whispering against her bare back. My heart pounds in my ears, a steadydrumbeat of want, as I drag her hips up higher, forcing her knees apart with my thighs. She's open now, exposed, her ass presented to me like an offering—pale skin flushed pink from her orgasm, a faint sheen of sweat making it glisten in the light. The air between us feels thicker, charged, every inhale pulling in more of her scent, making my head spin. I shove my sweatpants down just enough, the fabric rasping against my legs, freeing my cock—thick, heavy, already throbbing with a dull ache, the head slick with pre-come that beads hot and sticky at the tip.
I line up at her entrance, the blunt head nudging her slick folds, parting them slowly. The heat of her radiates against me, her wetness coating me in an instant, warm and inviting. I pause there for a heartbeat—savoring the way she trembles in anticipation, the way her breath catches, shallow and quick, the way her fingers twist tighter into the sheets. Then I thrust forward—deep, brutal, burying every inch in one unforgiving stroke. The stretch of her around me is exquisite agony—tight, velvet heat gripping me like a fist, pulling me in deeper with every pulse of her walls.
Alena screams.
The sound rips from her throat, raw and jagged, echoing off the bedroom walls like a siren's call. It sends a shiver down my spine, straight to the base of my cock, making me throb inside her. Her fingers claw at the sheets, knuckles bleaching white, the cotton bunching under her nails with a soft tear. Her back bows sharply, ass pushing back against me instinctively, taking me even deeper, her body chasing the fullness despite the burn.
I slap her ass—once, hard. My palm connects with a sharp crack that rings out in the quiet room, the impact sending a jolt through both of us. Pink blooms instantly across her paleskin, a blooming handprint that warms under my touch when I let my fingers trail over it, feeling the heat rise like embers.
She moans, the sound broken and needy, vibrating through her core and around my cock.
“Harder,” she pants, voice wrecked, barely above a whisper, laced with that Balkan edge that always undoes me.
I give it to her. Another slap—slower this time, my hand lingering in the air for a beat, letting the anticipation build, the whoosh of it cutting the air before it lands. Then again, drawing it out, each one jolting through her body like electricity. Her skin heats under my palm, turning a deeper shade of red with every strike, the sting echoing in my own hand. Each slap makes her pussy clench tighter around me—wet, rhythmic squeezes that milk my cock, pulling a low groan from my chest. The wet, filthy sound of skin slapping skin fills the room now, obscene and rhythmic, mingling with her gasps and the creak of the bedframe beneath us. She takes it all, pushing back to meet every thrust, her body greedy for the stretch, the burn, the raw possession of it.
I slide my hand up her spine—slow, deliberate, tracing the dip of her lower back, the knobs of her vertebrae, feeling the fine sheen of sweat that makes her skin slick under my fingertips. The warmth of her seeps into me, grounding me even as it drives me wild. Then I wrap my fingers around her throat from behind—firm, possessive, my thumb pressing lightly into the hollow of her collarbone—and pull. Her back presses flush against my chest, the heat of her skin searing into mine, her hair tickling my jaw as her head falls back onto my shoulder. Her breath comes in short, frantic pants against my neck, hot and uneven, carrying the faint scent ofsmoke from her morning cigarette mixed with the salt of her sweat.
“Drogo—” she gasps, voice cracking on my name, rough with need. “You’re too big—for this position—now—”
Her nails stab into my forearm, sharp and desperate, carving thin red lines that sting like fire. The pain grounds me, sharpens everything—the slide of her against me, the thunder of my pulse in my ears, the way her walls flutter around my cock. I ease back an inch—just enough to let her breathe, to give her that sliver of space—but the beast inside me is loose now, feral and starving. The need to claim her, to mark her, to make sure every cell in her body carries my name, my teeth, my come, is burning through every vein, every nerve, making my vision tunnel to the curve of her neck, the flush of her skin.
