Page 48 of Lethal Obsession

His hands slide up my legs until his thumbs return to their earlier exploration, his fingers curled around my hip bones as his thumbs slowly travel the inner creases of my thighs.

My eyes are glued to the thick bulge pounding against his pants, eliciting another trickle of moisture. Alexei’s breath hisses inward as his thumbs slick through it, and he moves his hands away, making me almost cry out with frustration. I raise my eyes to his face to find him watching me as he slides his hands down the length of my thighs, all the way back to my ankles.

Very deliberately, he picks up each foot and moves them wide apart, opening me so brazenly to his gaze that I lift my hands to cover myself.

Mistake.

His hands flash out to grip my own, and he shakes his head, his eye gleaming darkly. Reaching for my left ankle, he turns his head and presses his lips to my instep.

Oh my God.

I close my eyes as his tongue slowly curls along the arch, my hand clutching the bedsheet convulsively. His mouth moves agonizingly slowly over my ankle and up my calf, pausing to tease a place behind my knee that makes me arch off the bed, panting. As his mouth climbs inexorably higher, his hands slowly slide back up to their familiar position.

This time, instead of tracing my inner thighs, his thumbs come to rest on my outer lips.

I gasp, straining upward, silently begging for more.

His thumbs press down and spread me wide open.

I freeze, feeling utterly vulnerable, and open my eyes to find his lone one boring into mine. Just as in my dream, its blazing intensity sends the blood thrumming through my veins. I reach out, my fingers just grazing the rough stubble on his jaw.

He turns his face sideways and presses his mouth briefly to my palm. Then, with a dark, dangerous smile that sends a shiver through me, his head drops between my legs.

Fuuuuuck!

Alexei’s mouth covers me completely in wet heat. His tongue curls around my opening with the same dexterity it did beneath my knee, then makes a long, languorous sweep along my inner lips that would make me scream if he hadn’t warned me not to. He flattens his tongue over the puffy mound, then repeats the same motion in reverse down the other side. His hands slip beneath me, raising me to his mouth and spreading me even wider, and I surge up to meet him as his tongue dips and swirls on parts of me I didn’t even know existed. My entire world is reduced to his mouth and tongue, and the increasingly urgent need he seems determined to draw out until it’s exquisite torture.

My hands touch his head. I want to push it against my clit, to demand the orgasm I’ve been close to from the moment I woke up, but when I try, I feel his silent rumble of laughter against my most sensitive parts and want to scream.

He’s doing it deliberately, I realize. Alexei knows exactly what I want.

He’s just making me wait for it.

The realization turns me on even more.

My hips jerk upward. One of Alexei’s hands slides up beneath my dress to splay across my belly, holding me down, and when my own hand comes down atop it, my fingers slide between his. My other hand clutches his head, urging him onward, relishing his low groan as he slips a thumb just inside my slick opening.

“Oh, God,” I breathe, rocking against his hand. His thumb is replaced by one finger, then two, making my hand clutch his convulsively on my belly. He slips them a little farther inside, then abruptly stops. He raises his head from between my legs, his eye meeting mine with an expression I can’t make out in the dim light.

Then his head lowers again, his tongue stroking me with such intricate delicacy it’s like a thousand fronds driving me toward oblivion, and instead of thrusting deep inside me, his fingers curl upward.

“Oh.” It’s impossible to stifle my cry, and Alexei’s fingers clench warningly around my own. Grabbing the pillow beside me, I push it over my face, just in time to stifle my scream as his tongue finally lands on my pounding clit. His fingers stroke something inside me that would have me leaping from the bed if his hand wasn’t holding me firmly down, and I howl into the pillow as my entire world explodes.

8

Alexei

Battling my own conscience, I leave Ofelia on the bed and open the bedroom door a crack, unsure whether I want an excuse to leave or one to stay.

Bullshit, Alexei.

I know exactly what I want, and so does my throbbing, achingly hard cock.

She’s lying on the bed behind me, dress tangled around her hips, wet and glistening from her recent orgasm, and so clearly ready for more that I can barely think of anything except how good it would feel to bring her back to the brink with my mouth, then sink inside her until the world disappears.

The main salon is still silent, doors to the various bedrooms gaping open to reveal half-opened bags and turned-down beds.

Thank Christ for that.