“Zatanna—”
She licks the tip slowly.
I swear.
Her mouth opens and she takes me in, warm and wet and obscene, and I have to brace one hand on the back of the sofa to keep from fucking straight into her throat. She hums around me, lips sliding down, then back up, tongue circling as if she’s determined to make me lose what little control I have left.
“Christ.”
I fist a hand gently in her hair, not forcing, just holding, guiding. She sucks harder, eyes on mine, and I know instantly she likes what she’s doing to me. Likes the way my stomach tightens. Likes the way my breathing goes uneven.
My free hand slides over her shoulder, down her back, then lower until I’m stroking between her thighs while she sucks me. Her moan around my cock makes my whole body tense.
“Get up,” I say.
She does, reluctantly, mouth pink and wet, and I turn her around in one smooth movement so she’s bent over the sofa, her dress pooled at her waist, stockings still on, cunt still slick and swollen from my mouth.
The sight is enough to make me groan.
I press a kiss between her shoulder blades, then lower my hand between her thighs and spread her again.
“You’re gorgeous like this.”
She looks back over her shoulder, flushed and breathless. “You say that now.”
“I said it before too.”
Then I kneel behind her and put my mouth on her again from this angle, tongue dragging through her while one hand braces on her hip. She cries out, back arching beautifully, and at the same time her hand reaches between her legs and back toward me, fingers wrapping around my cock.
“Fuck—”
Now it’s my turn to lose my mind.
She strokes me while I eat her out from behind, her hand slick and tight and perfectly timed with every lick of my tongue. The room fills with wet sounds and broken breathing and the occasional helpless curse when she squeezes me just right.
I drag my tongue over her clit and feel her hand tighten on me.
“Aleksei, I’m?—”
I suck her clit hard and she shatters again, trembling violently, her body clenching while her hand jerks on my cock and almost sends me over with her.
I rise immediately, pulling her up against me, one arm around her waist. She’s boneless in my hands, shaking, still trying to catch her breath.
I kiss the side of her throat and line myself up between her thighs. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”
She turns her head just enough that our mouths almost meet. “If you stop now,” she says, wrecked and honest, “I’ll kill you.”
I laugh once, dark and low. Then I slide into her.
She gasps and grabs at my forearm, her body opening for me inch by inch until I’m fully inside and both of us are shaking from the feel of it.
“Jesus,” I mutter.
She presses back into me. “Move.”
So I do. The first thrust knocks a sound out of her that nearly strips the skin from my bones. It’s not the polished little moans she pours into a microphone for strangers. Not the practiced, honeyed sounds that started this whole disaster.
This is different. This is real.
