“Jesus fucking Christ,” I mutter, eyes tracking the marks. “What, you moonlight as a crash test dummy or something?”
For a second, D’s face darkens, his jaw clenching tight enough to crack walnuts. The playful glint in his eyes vanishes, replaced by something cold and hard.
I should back off. I know I should. But my hand moves of its own accord, fingers ghosting over the raised tissue of a particularly gnarly scar on his ribs. The texture is rough under my fingertips, a stark contrast to the smooth skin around it.
“The hell happened here?”
D draws in a sharp breath, his muscles tensing under my touch. For a split second, I see something raw and vulnerable flash in his eyes.
His hand clamps down on mine, cutting off my little exploration. His voice is gravel-rough. “Not the kind of bedtime story you want,krasotka.”
There’s a shadow in his eyes I know too fucking well. The look of someone who’s seen some serious shit. It’s creepy how familiar it feels.
For a hot second, I wonder what kind of goddamn mess I’ve landed in. No regular Joe ends up looking like a Human Etch-A-Sketch. Or slumming it with trash like me.
D’s thumb traces my wrist, snapping me back to reality. The heat between us flares like gasoline on a bonfire, but now there’s something else. A flicker of… something. Fuck if I know what.
“You gonna keep gawking, or are we gonna fuck?” I snarl, falling back on my usual charm.
His lips curl into a smile that promises trouble. “Oh, we’re definitely fucking. I’m going to make you beg,krasotka. Over and over again.”
Cocky bastard.
Before I can tell him he’s dreaming if he thinks I’ll ever beg, he’s already captured my breast with his large hands, and sucking on my nipple, causing me to gasp and arch toward him.
“Fuck,” I moan.
His eyes lock onto mine, dark and hungry. “I want to feel you milking me with your cunt,” he rumbles, fingers digging into my hips.
I bare my teeth, wanting him to feel the wetness between my legs as he speaks about fucking me.
Pushing off from him, I reach between us, fumbling with his belt. “Less talking, more fucking,” I growl.
He helps me undo his pants, lifting his hips so I can tug them down. His cock springs free, and I was right—he’s fucking huge.
“Jesus,” I breathe, wrapping my hand around him. He’s thick and hot, pulsing in my grip.
“Told you,” he smirks, but it turns into a groan as I start stroking him.
I lean down, maintaining eye contact as I lick a stripe up his shaft. His breath hitches, hands fisting in my hair as I take him into my mouth. I can barely fit half of him before I’m gagging.
“Fuck,krasotka,” he pants, hips jerking. “Your mouth feels amazing.”
I work him with my hand and mouth, enjoying the way he twitches and groans. Suddenly, he pulls me off him.
“My turn,” he growls, flipping us so I’m on my back.
The leather sticks to my skin, already slick with sweat. It’s warm and a little tacky, sinking slightly under our weight. I shift, feeling it pull against my back.
He spreads my legs, diving in to lick a broad trail up my slit.
“Shit!” I cry out, back arching off the couch as he sucks on my clit. He slides two thick fingers inside me, curling them just right.
My body trembles as D’s tongue and fingers work their magic. Every sensation is heightened, every nerve on fire. I moan and writhe beneath him, my hands gripping his shoulders and his hair.
My muscles tense and my skin ripples as D’s hot, wet tongue traces circles around my clit.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck… D.”
