She kisses the inside of his thigh first. Slow. Reverent. Feeling the way he trembles before her.
“I’ve been waiting so long to take you in my mouth, Kael,” she moans, eyes fixed on his.
And Kael looses an exhale of pure pleasure, ecstasy heavy in every breath.
“Fucking Stars. You’re so perfect,” he groans, voice strained.
She doesn’t take her eyes from his—she wants him to watch her. Wants him to see the way she takes him. Wants him to look at the way she loves him, pleasures him, chooses him. In every moment. Every lifetime.
She takes the tip of her tongue, and makes contact with his cock. He sucks in a sharp breath, the sound hissing between his teeth.
She traces the length of his cock with her tongue, a moan vibrating through her throat, causing Kael’s head to tip back in pleasure.
“No,” Elyssara commands. “Watch what I do toyou. Watch how I take you. How I love you,” she vows, and she takes his cock in her mouth.
A sharp, breathy moan escapes him as if he’s submitting—allowing himself to take pleasure for once in his fucking life.
Good.
She keeps going, taking him deeper in her mouth until his cock hits the back of her throat. Then she moans for him. A deep, guttural moan rumbles through her chest and his hips buck wildly at the sensation.
“Fuck,” he grits out, and his hands thread through her hair, tangling in the strands and gripping at the roots. Not controlling. Holding on.
Elyssara’s nails dig into the muscles of his thighs, her grip so tight she leaves crescent-shaped marks in his skin.
She increases her pace, watching him let go, receive, forget, allow, with every stroke of her tongue.
Water washes over them both, each drop offering purification, a clean slate.
Kael’s grip tightens in her hair, holding her head in place. But he doesn’t move his hips. He would never. He stands there, a small tremor in his legs giving away his restraint.
His eyes bore into her, the smallest sliver of black cutting through his ocean irises.
Elyssara pulls her lips away from his cock. “I want you to fuck my mouth, Kael.”
“No,” he snaps.
“Yes. Take from me. The way you let me take from you,” she says, and her mouth wraps around him again.
He groans at her touch, but his restraint is still evident.
She moves along his shaft, tongue dragging along his cock, mouth pumping.
And restraint snaps involuntarily—his hips buck.
She moans, loving the way he lets himself go for her.
She pumps her mouth harder, faster, letting him hit the back of her throat. His hands grip her hair firmer, desperate to hold himself back. So she does it for him. She sucks harder, deeper. Moans louder, richer.
His hips drive forward, sliding his cock in and out of her mouth.
And finally, he lets go.
He looks down at her, finding her eyes, his face broken into something beautiful and ruinous. She takes him deeper while he stares at her, the veins bulging in his forearms, his neck, every muscle tense.
He’s a vision. Lost to her, under her instruction, possessed by pleasure and love andthis.
“Thank you,” he breathes, voice stripped raw and broken, and she knows he’s not saying thank you for this.
