He kissed her—hard, demanding, claiming. His tongue swept into her mouth, tasting chocolate and her. His hands gripped her thighs, spreading them wider, pulling her to the edge of the counter.
She moaned into his mouth, her arms wrapping around his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair.
He pulled back slightly, his breathing harsh. "I'm going to taste you."
Her eyes went wide. "What?"
"Here. Now. On this counter where anyone could walk in and see."
"Samarth, we can't—"
"We can. We are." His hands found the hem of her nightgown and pushed it up to her waist. "And you're going to let me because you're just as desperate for this as I am."
He didn't wait for her response. He hooked his fingers in her panties and dragged them down her legs, tossing them aside.
Then he dropped to his knees.
"Oh God," she breathed, her hands gripping the edge of the counter. "You don't have to—"
"I want to." He looked up at her, saw the flush on her cheeks, the desire and embarrassment warring in her expression. "I've never done this for anyone else. Only you."
The confession slipped out before he could stop it.
Her eyes widened. "Never?"
"Never." He gripped her thighs, holding her in place. "You're the first woman I've wanted to taste. The only one."
He didn't give her time to process that revelation. He leaned forward and dragged his tongue through her slit.
She cried out, her back arching, one hand flying to cover her mouth.
"No," he commanded, pulling back slightly. "I want to hear you. Let the whole house know what I'm doing to you."
"The staff—"
"I don't care." He returned to his task, his tongue circling her clit before sucking it into his mouth.
Her taste was intoxicating—sweet and musky and uniquely her. He'd spent a year fucking her, but this was different. This was intimate in a way penetration wasn't. This was worship.
He worked her with his tongue and lips, learning what made her gasp, what made her moan, what made her thighs tremble. When he pushed two fingers inside her while his mouth continued its assault on her clit, she nearly came off the counter.
"Samarth, I can't—oh God—I'm going to—"
"Come," he commanded against her flesh. "Come on my tongue, Nimisha. Give me everything."
She shattered, her orgasm ripping through her with devastating force. He felt her pulsing around his fingers, tasted her release, and something primal and possessive roared inside him.
Mine.
Before she could recover, he stood, freed his cock from his pants, and thrust into her in one brutal stroke.
She was still trembling from her orgasm, hypersensitive, and she cried out at the intrusion.
"Too much?" he asked, his voice strained with the effort of holding still.
"No. God, no. Don't stop."
He didn't need to be told twice. He fucked her on the kitchen counter with single-minded intensity, his hands gripping her hips, his mouth swallowing her cries.
