Mouth trailed lower, hot breath burning a path down my chest, tongue tasting sweat, iron, the remnants of pain and the promise of pleasure. His nose nuzzled the line between pec and ribs, tongue tracing the edge of a bruise, lips pressing a kiss so gentle it nearly undid me.
The weight of his body kept me grounded, legs spread, chest bared, his suit rough against my skin, each movement a sweet torture. My hands found his head, fingers threading through hair, urging him closer, desperate for anything he’d give. His voice hummed against my skin, a promise and a threat. “Going to take you apart with my mouth,” he said, voice dark and reverent. “Make you forget anything but me.”
Mouth found a nipple, sucked it between lips, tongue flicking in tight, wet circles until my back arched, the pleasure sharp and dizzying. His hand dragged down my stomach, nails scraping the line of myabs, stopping at the edge of my waistband, pressing just hard enough to make me squirm.
His tongue laved the mark left by an old wound, lips closing around the spot as if kissing away the pain, erasing memory with worship. My chest heaved, moans spilling free, shameless, hungry, undone by the way he took his time, by the way he made every second count.
Fingers pinched and soothed, mouth painting a trail of bruises and heat, taking me apart in pieces, each one slower than the last. “You feel this?” Viktor murmured, lips grazing my navel, breath hot as a brand. “Every part of you. I want to taste your sweat, want to know how you sound when you can’t take any more.”
My hips rolled again, cock trapped and aching, the pressure almost painful. “Viktor—” My voice was wrecked, full of need. “Please?—”
A hand flattened over my heart, holding me down, thumb stroking slow, hypnotic circles. “Breathe for me,” Viktor ordered, voice gentle, soothing. “Let me have all of you. Let me see you break, just for me.”
Mouth returned to my chest, nipping, licking, every mark a brand, every sound drawn out of me a victory. His body pressed me deep into the bed, pinning my thighs wide with his own, his erection grinding hard through layers of fabric, no less devastating for the barrier between us.
Hands squeezed my waist, knuckles skimming the lines of my hips, mouth burning a path down my stomach, tongue flicking the edge of my waistband but never straying further, not yet. The control in every touch, every kiss, threatened to destroy me. No one had ever worshipped me like this, slow and filthy, taking their time to make me feel invincible and helpless at once.
My eyes locked on his, desperate, wild, begging for more, for anything he’d give. “Want you,” I gasped. “Want you to make me yours. All of me.”
His answer was a kiss to my heart, slow and deep, tongue flicking sweat from my skin. “Already are,” Viktor whispered, voice shaking, hands gripping me tighter. “Every scar, every bruise, every breath—mine.”
Teeth dragged over my nipple, sucking until I cried out, hips grinding up into his. His tongue soothed the bite, lips trailing back up to claim my mouth, swallowing every broken sound, every plea, every desperate confession.
A hand traced lower, sliding over the trembling lines of my abdomen, pausing at the waistband. Fingertips dipped beneath, teasing at the edge, then drawing back, making me writhe, greedy for the next reveal. Breath ghosted across my throat, so gentle it almost hurt. “Need to see all of you,” Viktor murmured, words edged with reverence and command.
Palms pressed down on my hips, pinning me, holding me steady. Buttons gave under his touch, one by one, careful, torturous, knuckles brushing heated skin as he peeled my trousers down inch by inch. My thighs tensed, muscles quivering, underwear stretched tight, the only thing left between my shame and his gaze.
The pants slipped away, leaving me sprawled across rumpled sheets, sweat-slick and desperate, nothing but thin cotton shielding me from the full weight of his attention. His hands ran over my thighs, squeezing, spreading them wider, eyes locked to mine as if daring me to look away. I never did. Couldn’t have if I tried.
“Keep your hands above your head.” The order vibrated through me, soft and unyielding. My fingers gripped the headboard, obeying without thought. “Don’t move unless I say so.” A hand wrapped around my ankle, tugging my legs wider, settling between them, the heat of his breath teasing just above my cock.
Mouth pressed kisses along the inside of my thigh, tongue flicking salty trails where bruises had started to bloom. Every inch he touched became a new center of gravity, every place he claimed with his lips made me ache to give him more. His tongue lingered at the edge of my briefs, tracing the line where skin met fabric, biting down, leaving faint imprints that would fade too soon.
“You always give yourself to me like this?” he whispered, voice low, teasing, full of dark promise. “Or am I the only one who gets you begging in nothing but your skin?”
Only a broken sound came out, shame and pride tangled together.His palm slid up my chest, holding me still as his other hand pushed my thighs higher, opening me wider, exposing every secret to his gaze. “Such a fucking mess already,” he purred, thumb stroking the head of my cock through damp cotton, watching every twitch, every gasp.
The weight of his control pinned me in place. My hips jerked, chasing every touch, but I stayed where he wanted, hands locked above me, body spread out, waiting, wanting, desperate for more. “Good boy,” Viktor praised, voice filthy and soft. “Doing so well for me.”
A hand slid up to my jaw, thumb pressing my lips apart, the taste of salt and sweat lingering on his skin. “Open,” he demanded, and I did, tongue flicking out, needy, hungry for anything he’d give. Viktor spat into my mouth—slow, deliberate, the act as possessive as any kiss—and watched as I swallowed, eyes never leaving his.
“More,” I begged, voice wrecked, head spinning from the taste, the raw humiliation of being opened for him.
He fed me a finger, rough and thick, the salt of my skin and his sweat on my tongue. “Suck,” Viktor ordered, and I closed my lips, drawing him deeper, tongue swirling around the digit as he worked it in and out, slow and steady. “You want to be filled, don’t you?” he murmured, voice full of dark delight. “Want me everywhere—mouth, ass, mind, soul.”
The words sent another pulse of need through me, cock aching, back arching for more. His finger fucked my mouth, slow, rhythmic, his gaze never leaving mine. “That’s it,” he whispered, sliding out, watching spit trail from my lips. “Good. You take me so well.”
Fingers found my jaw, tilting my head back as he spat again, wetter, filthier this time, spit slicking my tongue, dribbling down my chin. His other hand trailed down, palm sliding over my chest, stopping at my nipple to twist and tease, making me moan around the finger he pushed back between my lips.
Saliva smeared across my cheek as he pulled free, hand dragging down to stroke my throat, then lower, over my chest, belly, pausing at the waistband. Thumbs hooked beneath the elastic, not pulling down—just letting the fabric stretch and snap, teasing the flesh beneath, reminding me who owned every inch.
“Want to see you fall apart for me.” His voice was pure gravel, a promise and a threat. “Want to see you dripping, shaking, begging for more.” He leaned in, tongue lapping a stripe up my chest, mouth closing over a nipple, sucking hard, teeth grazing the bud before he released it with a wet pop.
My thighs spread wider, knees trembling as his mouth traveled lower, nipping, licking, sucking bruises onto the softest skin. Breath ghosted across my cock, trapped and aching beneath cotton. “Sensitive here, aren’t you?” he taunted, nose brushing my length, lips mouthing the shape of me through damp fabric. I nodded, desperate, whining for more.
“Use your words,” Viktor demanded, voice sharp, fingers pinching my thigh hard enough to sting. “Tell me what you need.”
“Need your mouth,” I begged, shame abandoned. “Want to feel your spit, your fingers, your teeth—need to know I belong to you.”
