"I'm going to worship you tonight." He looks up at me, ice-blue eyes blazing. "I'm going to make you come so many times you forget your own name. And then I'm going to fill you up again, because I can't stop. Can't ever stop wanting to be inside you."
Heat floods through me. My nipples tighten against the lace, and I feel myself getting wet—soaking through my underwear already.
He notices. Of course he notices.
"Already?" His hand slides between my thighs, cupping me through the lace. "We just got started,solnyshko."
"You're on your knees in a suit talking about filling me up." My voice comes out breathless. "What did you expect?"
He laughs—low, dark, dangerous—and pulls my underwear down my legs. I step out of them, trembling, and then his mouth is on me.
No teasing. No buildup. He buries his face between my thighs anddevoursme.
I cry out, hands flying to his hair, knees buckling. He catches me, holds me up, one arm banded around my thighs while his tongue works my clit. Licking. Sucking. Circling that sensitive bundle of nerves until I'm shaking, gasping, babbling nonsense.
"Leonid—please! I can't stand—"
He pulls back just long enough to say, "Then fall. I'll catch you."
And then his tongue pushes inside me.
I moan, loud and shameless, grinding against his face. He fucks me with his tongue, slow and deep, while his nose bumps my clit with every stroke. The pleasure builds fast—too fast—and I try to hold it back, try to make it last.
"Don't fight it." He slides two fingers inside me, replacing his tongue, and curls them against that spot deep inside. "Come on my face, wife. Give it to me."
I shatter.
The orgasm rips through me, my whole body clenching around his fingers, his name torn from my throat. He doesn't stop. He keeps licking, keeps fucking me with his hand, works me through it until the aftershocks fade.
Then he keeps going.
"Leonid—" I gasp. "Too much!"
"Not enough." He seals his mouth over my clit and sucks, hard, while his fingers pump in and out. "I said I was going to make you forget your name. We're not done yet."
The second orgasm hits before I'm ready for it. I scream—actually scream—and my knees give out completely. He catches me, lowers me to the floor, and spreads my thighs wider.
"One more." His chin is wet, his eyes wild. "One more like this, and then I'll fuck you."
"I can't!"
"You can." He adds a third finger, stretching me open, and I feel so full I can barely breathe. "You can take everything I give you. You always do."
His mouth finds my clit again. His fingers fuck me relentlessly, with three of them now, hitting that spot over and over. Wet sounds fill the room. I'm writhing on the floor, still in my wedding bra, the wolf pendant warm between my breasts, completely lost to the pleasure.
"Please," I sob. "Please, please, please—"
"Please what?"
"Please let me come—please—I need—"
"Then come." He curls his fingers hard, presses his tongue flat against my clit. "Come for your husband."
I break.
This orgasm is different—deeper, longer, rolling through me in waves that don't seem to end. I clench around his fingers so hard it almost hurts, and when I finally come down, I'm crying. Tears streaming down my face, body shaking, completely overwhelmed.
Leonid crawls up my body, kisses the tears from my cheeks.
