His arms wrapped around my ribs, warm and strong, creating a cage that felt like safety rather than confinement. Comforting.
When his hands trailed up to cup my breasts, I couldn’t help the way my body arched into him, my ass grinding into his pelvis. The contact pulled moans from both of us, the sound harmonizing in the quiet room.
He kissed my shoulder then, a gentle press of lips against sweat-dampened skin, before his fingers found my nipples. He rolled the piercings between his thumbs and forefingers, the metal barbells shifting and tugging in a way that straddled the line between pain and pleasure.
“If you want to stop at any point, just say it,” he murmured against my skin.
“Never,” I whispered, reaching down to touch myself.
My fingers slipped between my folds, and I felt how drenched I was. The wetness was excessive, coating my inner thighs. “Shit, this doesn’t feel normal.”
“How wet you are?” Rowan’s voice held no judgement, only warmth. “Everything about you is normal, Violet.”
The words settled over me like a blessing, soothing insecurities I hadn’t realized I was carrying. I circled my clit with shaking fingers while Rowan peppered kisses along my throat and shoulder, his fingers twisting my nipples until I was a whimpering mess.
“Fuck, don’t stop, Rowan. That feels so good.”
He made an approving noise, a rumbling purr I’d never heard from him before. “That is it,volchok. Bring yourself to pleasure.”
He palmed my breasts, pulling my nipples taut as pain and pleasure surged through my core in alternating waves. “Oh my god.” I cried out, bucking my hips against his.
“Use the toy,volchok,” he commanded, and I shuddered in compliance, sinking deeper into his embrace.
His damp shirt rubbed against my overstimulated skin, the fabric too much and not enough simultaneously.
“Can you take off your shirt first?” I begged. “Please?”
Distantly, I registered him pulling away to comply. Fabric rustled, and then he returned—bare chest to my back, skin against skin. It was glorious.
“The toy. . .” he reminded me gently.
“Am I too heavy—" I started to ask, suddenly self-conscious about lying across one of his arms.
He pinched a nipple hard, the sharp bite of pain cutting through my spiraling thoughts.
“Violet. . .” His voice felt as if it rolled directly over my clit, a physical sensation. His hips pressed into the curve of my ass in delicious torture.
“Yes! Sorry.” I fumbled for the toy with trembling fingers and pressed the button.
It vibrated to life, the sensation intense as I brought it between my legs. A deep moan tore from somewhere inside me, primal and desperate. I should have felt embarrassed by how wanton I sounded, but Rowan’s calm presence was grounding.
I am free.
“Rowan. I don’t think I can stop. I was so close earlier.”
He held me tighter, his embrace turning to steel, hands roaming along my body—playing with my nipples, cupping my breasts, tracing the curve of my waist. I was on fire, every inch of skin soaking in the attention he lavished on me.
“So fucking perfect,” he whispered against me, nipping and biting at the junction where my neck met my shoulder. The slight sting pulled moans from my lips.
Yes, don’t stop. Tell me more. I want to hear you.
The words must have escaped me because Rowan didn’t stop. His voice wrapped around me, filthy and sweet in equal measure.
“You are perfect, soaking my sheets like a good princess.”
“These perfect breasts deserve to be slapped and bitten.”
“I want to eat that pretty pink cunt of yours while you drench my face.”
