"You did this to yourself for a dress," I murmur, thumbs circling the outer edges of the first pasty. "Hid these beautiful tits behind tape because the world told you to."
"I... yes." Her voice is breathless.
I drizzle more lotion along the top edge of the pasty, working it underneath with slow, deliberate fingers. The adhesive loosens. Her breath catches. I peel it back, just a fraction, and the dark, tight bud of her nipple peeks free. I lean down and lick it. One hot, flat stroke of my tongue. She cries out, her hands flying to my shoulders. Her nails dig in. Good. I want marks. I want proof she held on while I dismantled her.
I don't mean to kiss her. I mean to destroy her piece by piece, but the moment my mouth leaves her breast, the temptation is too brutal to resist. I band my arm around her waist, yank her flush against me, and seize her lips with a violence that should terrify her. It terrifies me. My tongue invades, claims, conquers, and she meets me with a hunger that rattles my bones—a sweet, untrained enthusiasm that sends lightning down my spine. She moans into my mouth, her body arching, her fingers gripping my hair with a desperation that mirrors my own, and for one suspended second, the predator and the monster forget who he is. I break away with a rough growl, my forehead pressed to hers, our breaths mingling in harsh, shared gasps. Shaken. I am fucking shaken. And when I open my eyes, I see the same earthquake staring back in hers.
I break the contact, rip my eyes away. Since I don't lie to myself, I admit that I'm a coward. My forehead buries itself in her collarbone while I pant. She moans, and I surface to realize that I've returned to working her breast. My hand finding its way like a homing pigeon. The lotion has done its job as the edges of her pasty start to curl. She's a fucking vision. "Such a pretty nipple," I praise against her skin. "So hard for me already. Look how brave you are, letting a monster taste you."
I work the pasty off completely, sucking the freed peak into my mouth. Hard. I use my teeth, just enough pressure to make her gasp, then soothe her with my tongue. I lavish attention on onebreast while my hand massages lotion into the other, loosening the second pasty. By the time I remove it, she's arching into me, mewling, her hips seeking friction. I lift my head. Her eyes are glazed, her lips parted. I pinch both wet nipples, rolling them between my fingers, watching her face carefully. Studying every flicker of sensation.
"Please," she whispers.
"Please what?"
"I don't... I don't know."
"Yes, you do." I give her a sharp pinch. She whines, high and sweet. "Your body knows. This body belongs to me tonight. Every fucking inch. And I say when you get relief."
I push her back onto the bed. She falls gracelessly, her hair finally coming loose from that column, wild curls spilling everywhere. I grab her knees and spread her wide, tearing the thong down her legs. I toss it. Gone. She's bare before me. Glistening. I can smell her arousal from here, musky and sweet, and my cock jerks so hard I feel lightheaded. "Look at this pussy," I growl. "Soaking wet. Dripping for a man you just met. Such a dirty little mouse."
She tries to close her legs. I shove them back open, holding her thighs apart with my shoulders. "Don't hide from me. Never hide. You're fucking perfect like this." I don't start gentle. I start hungry. I drag my tongue through her folds, flat and claiming, tasting every secret she's kept. She screams, her back bowing off the mattress. I pin her hips with one arm and feast. I suck her clit between my lips, flicking it mercilessly with the tip of my tongue, then push two thick fingers inside her tight heat.So fucking tight. She clamps down on my digits like a vice, and a thought flares:no condom. Bare. I could fill her up, breed this perfect little creature, plant my seed so deep she'd never get rid of me.
The image is potent. Obscene. My balls ache with the need to mark her. But I swore I wouldn't keep her. And a Bratva bastardlike me doesn't get to keep pure things. I won't chain her to my darkness with a child. Not even the fantasy is worth her ruin. I will not breed her. Not tonight. Not ever. Instead, I grab a foil packet from the drawer with my free hand, tearing it open while my fingers curl inside her, finding the spot that makes her see stars. I sheath myself quickly, cursing at the constriction, then I return to her clit with my mouth.
I work her with relentless rhythm. Fingers thrusting, tongue circling. I feel her climbing, her thighs quivering, her breath coming in desperate sobs. She tenses, right on the precipice, her hands fisting in my hair. I stop.
"What—" she chokes out, thrashing. "Please, please, I was so close—"
"I know." I look up at her from between her thighs, her arousal shining on my chin. "And you'll get there again. WhenI'mready. Not before."
"Please," she begs, tears pricking her eyes. "I can't... it hurts..."
"It aches," I correct, my voice a dark rumble. "There's a difference. And I want it to ache. I want you to feel every second of this. You want to come for your Bratva beast, don't you?"
"Yes," she sobs. "Yes, anything, please—"
"Good girl." I reward her with a long, slow lick up her center. "Such a good, willing girl. Look at you, taking my fingers like you were made for them. So fucking gorgeous when you beg." I edge her twice more. Three times. Each time bringing her to the razor's edge until she's incoherent, babbling, her skin flushed deep bronze, her pussy so swollen and wet that she's left a dark spot on my silk sheets. She's dripping. Soaking. Ready.
Now.
I crawl up her body, caging her beneath me. I line my cock up with her entrance, the head kissing her wet heat. I grip her jaw, forcing her to look at me. "This is going to hurt, mysh. But only for a moment. And then I'm going to make you feel thingsyou've never imagined." I push in, just the tip, feeling her stretch around me. "Tell me you want it."
"I want it," she gasps, clawing at my back. "I wantyou."
I surge forward, breaking through her barrier in one sharp thrust. She cries out, her eyes widening, pain and shock written across her face. I still immediately, breathing hard, my whole body trembling with the effort not to move. She's impossibly tight. A hot, velvet fist gripping my cock, and I grind my teeth to keep from spilling right then.
"Shh," I murmur against her temple, pressing kisses to her damp skin. "Breathe, little one. Take me in. You're doing so well. So brave. So perfect around me." I feel her relax by increments. Her nails ease from my skin. Her breathing evens out. I pull back, just an inch, and slide back in. Slow. Agonizingly slow. Watching her face for any sign of distress. But the pain is fading, replaced by something else—curiosity, need, her hips tilting experimentally to meet mine.
"There she is," I praise. "There's my greedy girl. You feel that? You feel how you open up for me?"
"Yes," she moans. "More. Please, more."
I keep the pace torturous. Easing in and out, letting her feel every ridge, every vein, letting her adjust to being filled. But the slow stroke is killing us both. Sweat drips down my spine. Her pussy flutters around me, milking me, and I know she's close again, her clit throbbing where our bodies meet. "Past the discomfort now, mysh?"
"Yes," she whimpers. "I'm ready. I'm ready, please—"
"Good. Because I can't be gentle anymore."
