Before I can respond, he's dropping to his knees in front of me, his hands pushing my skirt up around my waist. He hooks his fingers in my underwear and drags them down my legs, and I step out of them. The way he looks at me makes my stomach flip.
"Sit on the couch," he growls in a lusty tone.
The minute I sit, he spreads my thighs wide, settling between them. His hands grip my hips, holding me in place as he blows across my core. The anticipation makes my heart race and then his mouth is on me and I whimper, grabbing for his hair.
He's not gentle about it either. He goes straight for my clit with firm sucks that have me rocking against his mouth. His tongue devours me, and I'm already making sounds I can't control.
"God, Vadim?—"
He responds by sliding two fingers inside me, curling them up to hit that spot that makes my back arch off the couch. His tongue never stops moving, alternating between broad strokes and focused attention that has me climbing embarrassingly fast. The dual sensation of his mouth and his fingers is almost too much.
"Oh, God," I gasp, clawing at his hair. "I can't?—"
He increases the pressure and pumps his fingers harder and the friction combined with his tongue on my clit pushes me over the edge and I come hard, my thighs clamping around his head. The orgasm rolls through me and he works me through it. His tongue continues its assault while I rock against him and slowly come down from the intensity.
When the aftershocks finally subside, I'm breathing hard and my legs are trembling. He pulls his fingers out and I watch as hebrings them to his mouth, sucking them clean while maintaining eye contact. The sight makes me want him so bad even though I just came.
"You taste incredible," he says. He stands, and I immediately go for his belt, working it open with shaking hands. The metal clinks as I pull it free and toss it aside. I push his pants down and take him in my hand, stroking from base to tip.
"I want to taste you too," I tell him and before he can protest I lick the bead of precum from his head.
He groans and his hand rests on the back of my head as I take him into my mouth, using my hand for what doesn't fit. When I start moving and stroking him, his hips jerk forward as he groans and tightens a fist in my hair.
"Your mouth is incredible," he says, his voice strained. "Don't stop."
I take him deeper, relaxing my throat, and work him with my mouth and hand, paying attention to what makes him groan, what makes his breathing hitch. His thigh is tense under my free hand and I can feel how hard he's trying to hold back, trying not to thrust. But it's a losing battle. His hips start pumping and I am at his mercy as he sinks into my throat, making me gag around his shaft.
When I pull back to focus on just his head, swirling my tongue around it, his whole body tenses. I hollow my cheeks and suck hard and he swears.
"If you keep doing that, this is going to be over too fast." He pulls at my hair lightly but I do it again, deliberately taking him as deep as I can. He swears again, then says something in Russian that I don’t understand, and I can tell he's getting close. Hisbreathing is ragged and his other hand has moved to grip the back of the couch. But he pulls me off before he finishes, and his chest is heaving hard.
"Not yet," he says as his cock bobs in the air in front of me glistening with my spit. I smirk at him and lick my lips. "Turn around."
I stand on shaky legs and turn to face the back of the couch. His hands run over my ass, squeezing and pinching, spreading me open. I hear him spit and then his fingers are there, circling my entrance to make everything slick.
"Tell me if it's too much," he says, his other hand rubbing my lower back soothingly.
"I will."
He works one finger in and I breathe through the initial stretch. It's intense but good, and I push back against his hand, wanting more. He's patient, working me open slowly, adding more moisture when he needs it and my god is it so incredible, the burn and pinch of him stretching me.
One finger becomes two and I'm adjusting to the sensation, my body relaxing as he scissors them inside me. He's thorough about it, taking his time, making sure I'm ready, and when he crooks his fingers, I gasp at the unexpected pleasure.
"More," I say, needing to be filled. I find myself rocking back onto him, whimpering as he builds the pleasure. I could seriously come from this, and I start touching myself.
He adds a third finger and the stretch makes me gasp and grip the couch harder. It burns but in a way that makes me crave more.
"You're doing so well," he murmurs, stroking my hip with his free hand.
It's so good I think I may come before he even gets inside me but he slows. And when he pulls his fingers out, I whimper at the loss. I hear him spit again and then the blunt head of his dick is pressing against me. He pushes forward with steady pressure and I force myself to relax, to breathe through it. The stretch is worse than his fingers and I have to consciously relax my muscles because his dick is very thick. But when his head is in, it's so good.
"That's it," he says, "just like that…breathe."
"Keep going," I manage to say through gritted teeth.
He pushes in farther, inch by inch, his progress measured and controlled. I can hear how hard he's breathing, how much effort it's taking him to go this slowly when I know he wants to just thrust in. But he waits, lets me adjust to each new inch before giving me more.
"God, you're so fucking tight," he growls as he squeezes my ass. "So perfectly tight." The tremor in his voice shows me he's close.
