Dmitri releases my wrist. His eyes rake down my body. I'm wearing nothing but heels, standing at the edge of his bed, still trembling from what his fingers did to me.
"Lie down." His voice drops an octave. "Open your legs."
I climb onto the bed. I settle on my back, hair fanning across the pillows, and let my knees fall apart.
The sound Dmitri makes isn't quite human.
He stands at the foot of the bed, frozen. His chest rises and falls too fast. His hands curl into fists at his sides.
Then he starts to strip.
His jacket hits the floor. His fingers work the buttons of his shirt with brutal efficiency. Each inch of revealed skin makes me want to touch him. To kiss his entire body.
His belt buckle clinks. His pants drop.
Thick and hard.
He climbs onto the bed. The mattress dips under his weight. He settles between my spread thighs, shoulders pushing them wider.
His breath ghosts over my center.
I jerk.
"Dmitri, I can't—" The words catch in my throat. "I'm too sensitive. From before."
He doesn't answer.
His tongue drags through me.
I cry out. My hips buck off the bed. The sensation is too much. Too intense. Every nerve ending screams.
My thighs try to close around his head.
He stops.
Lifts his head.
Those eyes pin me in place.
"If you do that one more time," he says, voice deadly calm, "I'll tie your legs open."
Heat floods my core. My nipples tighten. My breath comes faster.
I feel myself getting wetter.
He sees it. Of course he sees it. His nostrils flare. His pupils blow wide.
"Interesting." The word drips with dark promise.
He lowers his head again.
His tongue circles my clit.
The sensation rips through me. Too sharp. Too good. My oversensitive flesh screams at the contact.
My thighs snap closed.
Dmitri goes still.
