For a moment, he just looked. His gaze traveled over me like a physical touch, leaving heat in its wake. I felt exposed in a way that had nothing to do with nudity—like he could see past my skin to something deeper, something I'd spent years trying to hide.
"Beautiful," he said, and the word was almost reverent.
Then his mouth closed over my nipple, and I stopped thinking entirely.
He sucked hard, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak, and my back bowed off the bed. His hand found my other breast, kneading, pinching, matching the rhythm of his mouth with his fingers. The dual sensation was almost too much—pleasure spiking through me in waves that left me gasping.
"More," I heard myself say. "Please."
He switched his attention to the other breast, giving it the same thorough treatment while his hand slid down my stomach. His fingers traced the waistband of my pants, teasing, not quite dipping below.
"Tell me what you want," he said against my skin.
"You know what I want."
"I want to hear you say it."
I looked down at him—his dark eyes watching me, his mouth wet and swollen from kissing me, his hand hovering just above where I needed him most. The vulnerability of saying it out loud warred with the desperate need clawing at my insides.
Need won.
"Touch me," I said. "Please. I need you to touch me."
His smile was wicked. "Since you asked so nicely."
He unbuttoned my pants and pulled them down along with my underwear, leaving me completely naked beneath him. The cool air hit my heated skin, and I shivered—not from cold, but from anticipation.
He settled between my thighs, his shoulders spreading them wide, and looked up at me one more time. "Watch me," he said. "I want you to see what I'm doing to you."
Then he lowered his head and put his mouth on me.
The first stroke of his tongue made me cry out. He licked through my folds in one long, slow movement, gathering my wetness, learning my taste. Then he did it again. And again. Each pass deliberate, thorough, devastating.
"God," I breathed. "Rodion—"
He hummed against me, and the vibration made my hips jerk. His hands gripped my thighs, holding me open, holding me still while he worked me with his tongue. He circled my clit without touching it directly, teasing the edges, building the tension until I was writhing beneath him.
"Please," I begged. "Right there—please—"
He ignored my pleas. Instead, he slid lower, his tongue pressing into my entrance, fucking me with slow, shallow thrusts that made me see stars. I reached down and grabbed his hair,trying to direct him where I needed him most, but he resisted, continuing his methodical exploration.
"Patience," he murmured against my flesh, and I could have screamed.
Just when I thought I couldn't take anymore, he finally—finally—closed his lips around my clit and sucked.
The orgasm hit me like a freight train. I came with a sob, my whole body convulsing, my thighs clamping around his head. He worked me through it, his tongue never stopping, drawing out the pleasure until I was shaking and gasping and pushing at his shoulders because it was too much, too intense.
He pulled back, his chin glistening with my arousal, and smiled up at me. "That's one."
"One?"
"I'm not done with you yet."
Before I could respond, he flipped me over onto my stomach. The sudden change in position startled me, but before I could protest, his mouth was on my neck, his body pressing me into the mattress.
"Is this okay?" he asked against my ear.
"Yes."
