“Yes,” she whispered.
“Tell me.”
“I… I like it. I like you touching me.”
“Good.” I shifted my attention to the other breast, giving it the same worshipful attention—kissing, licking, gently squeezing. The sensations were overwhelming for both of us. For me, the taste of her skin, the feel of her responsive body. For her, the focused, possessive attention I lavished on her most intimate parts. Her moans grew louder, less hesitant. Her hands clenched in my hair.
Her shyness was being stripped away, layer by layer, replaced by a dawning boldness. Her own hands moved to my shirt, fingersfumbling with the buttons. “I want to feel you,” she said, her voice gaining strength.
I helped her, pulling the shirt off myself and tossing it aside. Her eyes roamed over my chest, my shoulders. She leaned in and kissed my forehead, a sweet, almost reverent gesture that contrasted wildly with the heat building between us.
I couldn’t wait any longer. I buried my face in the sweet curve of her neck, inhaling her scent—sea salt, sunscreen, and pure Viya. I kissed and nipped at the sensitive skin there, and she cried out, her back arching, pushing her breasts more firmly into my chest. I moved lower, my lips trailing a blazing path over her collarbone.I turned my head and captured her mouth again, kissing her deeply as my hands continued to knead and worship her breasts. The kiss was a tangle of tongue and breath, hungry and consuming. Between kisses, I murmured to her, my voice low and commanding.
“You’re mine, Viya. Every part of you. This perfect body… it belongs to me. You understand?”
She nodded, her eyes glazed with pleasure. “Yes.”
“Say it.”
“I’m yours,” she breathed. “All of me.”
The words fueled me. My hands left her breasts to deal with the rest of our clothes. I peeled off my jeans, kicking them away. She, with a surprising haste, hooked her thumbs into the sides of her panties and slid them down her legs, leaving herself completely bare to me.
She came back to my lap, skin to skin now. The feeling was electric. Her thighs settled over mine, her warm, wet center pressed against my stomach. I was hard, achingly ready for her.
She reached down between us, her small hand trembling slightly as she guided me. I positioned myself at her entrance, the head of my shaft just nudging against her wet warmth. My hands gripped her buttocks, feeling the firm, round curves. I squeezed possessively.
“Look at me,” I ordered softly.
Her eyes, wide and dark, locked with mine.
“I’m going to fill you up,” I said, my tone leaving no room for doubt. “I’m going to make you feel so full, so complete, you’ll forget everything except my name.”
She nodded, a shudder running through her.
I didn’t thrust. I controlled her descent. With my hands on her hips, I slowly, slowly pushed her down onto my length.
She took me in, inch by agonizingly wonderful inch. Her body opened for me, welcoming me deep inside her. Her head fell back as she moaned, a long, low sound of pure pleasure. Her inner muscles clenched around me, hot and tight.
When she was fully seated, when I was buried as deep as I could go, we both paused, breathing ragged. The feeling of being inside her, connected so completely, was almost spiritual. Her breasts, now free and full, swayed with the motion of her breathing, a mesmerizing sight.
“All in,” I whispered, my voice strained. “You took all of me. Good girl.”
She moaned my name again. “Armaan… it’s so… you feel…”
“I know,” I said, my hands moving to her breasts again, cradling them, my thumbs stroking her nipples. “Now move for me. Ride me. Show me how much you want this.”
With a shaky breath, she began to move. It was tentative at first, a small rock of her hips. Then, as the pleasure built, her movements grew more confident. She rose up, almost leaving me, then sank back down, taking me in again with a soft, wet sound. Each descent sent a jolt of pure bliss through me.
My focus returned to her breasts. As she moved above me, they bounced beautifully, a gentle, rhythmic jiggle that was utterly captivating. I leaned forward and took one into my mouth, sucking gently on her nipple. She cried out, her movement stuttering for a second before becoming more frantic.
“Don’t stop,” I murmured against her skin. “Keep moving. Let me feel you.”
She obeyed, her hips establishing a steady, rising rhythm. The sound of the waves mingled with the sound of our bodies joining, of her pleasured sighs and my own harsh breaths. I switched my attention to her other breast, kissing, licking, sucking, while my hands held her hips, guiding her, sometimes helping her move faster, sometimes slowing her down to deepen the sensation.
“You like my mouth on you?” I asked, looking up at her flushed face.
“Yes,” she gasped. “So much.”
