Mouth still pressed low, my gaze edges up his body until it rests on his. His eyes blaze fire-bright, and at this moment, I want nothing but to burn: I don’t want to wave my fingers over this flame, test his ferocity. I want to throw myself onto the pyre until only ash remains.
Hands against my head, he eases himself further into my mouth, hips shifting tentatively as I move my mouth down. Explorative movement becomes firmer on his next thrust, fingers tangled in my hair as he pushes his cock so deep it briefly touches the soft skin at the back of my throat. I try not to gag, surprise tears teetering on my lids, but despite the discomfort, I find myself moaning with each upward thrust, the seam of my pyjamas riding hard against my clit as I move with a total lack of inhibition, hot and urgent.
With each thrust, his movements become more demanding. I’m torn between my current physical discomfort and how I actuallyfeel.From my buzz of holding the power, making him hiss and twitch, to how I feel now, here, on my knees. Despite the shift in our dynamics, the thrill is comparable; maybe even greater right now. The sounds he makes through his abandonment, his lack of concern for my comfort—his using me as a mere means to his pleasure—is cause for further arousal, and that in itself is utterly profound.
Mascara burns my eyes, tears rolling down my face as he suddenly eases backwards, fingers loosening from my hair. A hand threaded under my arm, he pulls me up from my knees, releasing himself from my mouth with a wetpop.
‘Get naked,’ he rasps on an exhale. ‘Let me see all of you.’ I stare at him for a long, loaded beat, standing between his legs. ‘If I have to do it, these won’t be wearable anymore.’ His finger and thumb loosely tugs the hem of my camisole.
It doesn’t take me long to shimmy out of my pyjamas until I’m naked, standing before him, once more at his command. He, almost fully dressed and me, totally naked, as the central air does its best to cool my fire-hot skin.
‘Inti amar,’ he murmurs. ‘Just look at you. You’re so beautiful.’
I bend forward when he grabs my arm, the other clasping my chin and bringing my mouth hard to his. His tongue invades my mouth in an instant, the thrusting motion mirroring the earlier movement of his cock between my lips. I’m awkwardly balanced on the chair, one knee between his legs, but I wouldn’t want it any other way.
‘Touch yourself,’ he whispers against my mouth. One extended finger runs delicately between my breasts. ‘Slide your fingers inside. Let me watch.’
The power of his low-spoken words ignites inside as I follow the path of his finger, mine travelling further still over my stomach to the neat strip of hair between my legs. My spine arches instinctively as I trail a finger over my damp flesh.
His gaze is avid and devouring, torn between watching my face and my hand between my legs. ‘Tell me how it feels,’ is his caressing command.
‘Wet,’ I whisper, my voice tremulous. ‘And hot.’ Then bolder still, ‘desperate to be filled.’
‘Ah, Kate,’ he groans, his hand covering mine as my fingers caress the slickness inside. ‘Just there,’ he whispers positioning my fingers over my clit.
My body jolts at the contact, the combination of my fingers coaxing and petting as two of his own slide deeply inside. My insides tighten as he entices and beckons me on, the familiar sensation building in my core, my thighs beginning to twitch.
‘There, oh God,there.’ I whimper, my free hand grasping his shoulder for strength as his fingers stroke my insides.
‘Stop,’ he growls and my fingers still, my mind clouded with lust, my clit pounding hotly against my finger. ‘I said stop.Khallas.’
I realise my fingershaven’tstopped at all as his hand covers mine. I’m confused. And not bloody happy. I think that much is apparent to him as he pulls our entwined hands away. Glistening fingers slide into his pocket. Wordlessly, he hands me a condom.
‘Put it on,’ he growls. ‘I want to fuck you now.’
Not exactly an invitation wrapped in tinsel, but somehow I’m thrilled all the same. My fingers tremble as I tear the foil and slide it inexpertly over his satin-sleek length.
‘Aren’t you going to take off your pants?’ I look down stupidly. ‘I—they’ll get messy.’ I try not to pull a face.
His eyes blink once, slow and unhurried, a smile growing on his kiss-swollen lips. Lying low on the couch, pants opened, his hardness standing out, he looks sinfully illicit. And a little amused.
‘I expect nothing else. Maybe I’ll wear them tomorrow, wear them covered with your come. Turn around.’
That accent and those words do it for me every time. My insides start to pulse and as he pulls his legs together, I’m forced to step over his thighs, and end up facing the other way.
‘Put your hands behind your back.’
The pulsing increases as I turn my head to look over my shoulder. He begins tying his discarded neck-tie around my wrists. I turn away from his sudden smirk as he catches my eye, my heart beating like it would break free from my chest.
‘I love that expression,’ he murmurs. ‘That first flickering of doubt.’ Fingers trail to the cheeks of my arse before, grasping my hip, he coaxes me lower. Instinctively I resist, but my balance isn’t quite firm. ‘The impulse to pull away, almost like you don’t want this.’ He still sounds entertained, right before he swats my arse with the palm of his hand.
‘Hey!’ I turn my head and look at him, eyebrows drawn in.
‘That expression, too,’ he rasps. ‘I can almost believe you mean it. Almost.’ His hands grasp my cheeks, thumbs uncomfortably close to the crack of my butt. ‘You’re so fucking beautiful.’
His breath is more groan as he bends forward, his teeth digging into my flesh in a sucking kind of bite. I hear myself moan; my legs becoming almost liquid as the momentum of his hands and words pushes me forward and down.
I tremble... desire, distrust, and filled by desperation as my heat touches his tip.
