Something kindled in his eyes.Pride, maybe.Or possession.Or something softer than either, something that scared me more than all his dominance ever had.
He moved up the bed to lie beside me, still fully clothed, his arm curving around my waist to pull me against his side.The fabric of his shirt was cool against my overheated skin.I could feel him through his pants, hard and straining against the fabric, pressing against my hip.He wanted me.He’d just given me the most intense pleasure of my life, and he was still aroused, still wanting, still aching for his own release.
The thought made something brave and reckless uncurl in my chest.Something that wanted to give back what he’d given me.Something that wanted to see him lose control the way I just had.
“Can I touch you?”I asked.
He went very still against me, his breathing pausing for a heartbeat.“You don’t have to.”
“I know I don’t have to.”I propped myself up on one elbow, looking down at him.At this powerful, terrifying man who had just asked permission before every touch, who had made my pleasure the entire point instead of a footnote to his own.Who had knelt between my thighs and worshipped me with his mouth like I was something precious.“I want to.I want to make you feel good too.”
His hand came up to cup my cheek, his thumb tracing my lower lip.His eyes searched mine, looking for doubt, for obligation, for any sign that I was doing this because I felt I had to rather than because I wanted to.
“Are you sure?Because once you taste me, once you swallow what I give you, there’s no pretending this is just a contract anymore.”
“Stop asking me that.”I leaned down to kiss him, tasting myself on his mouth, the intimate evidence of what he’d just done to me.The rawness of it made me shiver.“I’m sure.Teach me how.”
He helped me undress him, his hands steady where mine trembled slightly.Shirt first, revealing the muscled planes of his chest, the scars I’d only touched once.I ran my fingers over them now, tracing the raised lines of old wounds, wondering at the stories behind each one.Then his pants and boxer briefs together, sliding down his legs until he was as naked as I was.
His cock was thick and flushed dark with arousal, curving up toward his stomach, a bead of moisture already gathering at the tip.I’d touched him before, gripped him through his clothes, felt him hot and hard against my belly when he’d pulled me close.But I’d never really looked.Never studied him the way he’d studied me.
He was beautiful.Dangerous and beautiful, like everything else about him.
I wrapped my hand around him, felt him pulse against my palm, velvet skin over iron hardness.
“Is this okay?”
“More than okay.”His voice had gone rough, strained, losing some of that perfect control.“Your hand feels so good.Tighter.Just like that.”
I stroked him experimentally, watching his face for guidance.His eyes fluttered closed.His hips shifted, pushing into my grip.A bead of moisture appeared at the tip, and I swiped my thumb across it, spreading the slickness over the head.He made a sound low in his throat, somewhere between a groan and a growl.
“Can I use my mouth?”The question came out smaller than I intended, shy in a way I hadn’t been even when he’d spread my legs and put his face between them.“I’ve never… I don’t know if I’ll be any good.”
His eyes opened, dark and hot, pupils blown wide with arousal.“You don’t have to?—”
“I want to.”I slid down his body before I could lose my nerve, positioning myself between his thighs the way he’d positioned himself between mine.Up close, his cock was intimidating.Larger than I’d imagined, larger than the clinical diagrams from health class had prepared me for.But I wanted this.Wanted to taste him, to learn him, to make him feel even a fraction of what he’d just made me feel.“Tell me if I do something wrong.”
“You won’t.”His voice was strained, barely controlled.“Whatever you do, I promise you won’t.”
I took him in my mouth.
The taste was salt and musk and something uniquely him, not unpleasant, just foreign.Intimate in a way I hadn’t expected.I took as much of him as I could, which wasn’t much, my lips stretching around his girth while my hand covered what my mouth couldn’t reach.His hips twitched, and I heard his breath hitch, felt his whole body go tense beneath me.
“Fuck,” he breathed.“Lena.”
The sound of my name in that broken voice sent a thrill through me.I was doing this.I was making him feel good, making his control slip, making the most powerful man I’d ever met gasp and twitch beneath my inexperienced mouth.There was power in this.Power I hadn’t expected.Power that had nothing to do with contracts or obligations and everything to do with choice.
I found a rhythm.Up and down, my tongue swirling around the head on each upstroke, my hand following the motion of my lips.I watched his face, learning what made him groan, what made his hands fist in the sheets, what made his hips buck up involuntarily.His fingers tangled in my hair, not pushing, just holding.Like he needed to touch me.Like he couldn’t bear not to.
“I’m going to come down your throat.”His voice was raw through gritted teeth.“You’ll take all of it.Every drop.That’s not a request.”A pause, his fingers tightening in my hair.“Pull off now if you don’t want to swallow.”
I didn’t pull off.
His hand shifted from where it had been resting in my hair, fingers tightening, cupping the back of my skull.Holding me in place.His hips bucked up, driving himself deeper into my mouth, and for one panicked heartbeat I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but feel him hitting the back of my throat.
I should pull off.I should push against his thighs and gasp for air and tell him that was too much, too fast, too deep.
But a darker part of me didn’t want to.A part of me I hadn’t known existed until this moment wanted this.Wanted to feel him lose control.Wanted to be the reason the most powerful man I’d ever met came apart with a groan that sounded like it was ripped from somewhere deep inside him.
