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As thoughts race through my mind, my cock springs to life with its own agenda, blood rushing to my shaft, and a painful ache throbs in my balls. I adjust my position on the couch and yank on the front of my pants. This isn’t the type of arousal I want to waste on just anyone, but I’m willing to make a phone call if Liya rejects me.
Ifbeing the operative word in that sentence.
Where her smile dazzled me is where her scent remains, bubbly champagne with a floral undertone that makes me picture a golden-clad New Year’s Eve. If I close my eyes, I can almost picture her in a short, glittering sequin dress, something innocent that teases at all the rich treasures underneath.
Rich treasures begging to be plundered.
They’re always so much wilder underneath, I smirk as I adjust the shot glasses on the table.
Just as I think she’s given up on me, the door opens and I raise my eyes expectantly, watching her rake her bottom lip bashfully between her teeth.
I grin warmly. “Lock the door behind you.”
She turns to shut the door and turns the lock on the knob with a gesture of finality. Her delicate fingers linger on the wood for a moment until she turns around to face me, drawing her long hair over one shoulder and twisting it anxiously.
I nod toward the space next to me. “Sit.”
Every step she takes toward me sends electric signals to my cock, the lightness with which she sits causing me to tingle. I don’t ever recall wanting someone so much.
But I’m also aware of how few women I’ve encountered like Liya.
“Another drink?” I offer while holding up the glass. “You look thirsty.”
Her voice is small, but her intention smacks me as she whispers, “I’m parched…”
While she accepts the glass, her fingers graze my knuckles. A shudder of warmth surges through my body at the touch. Pressure rises between us as I’m mesmerized by the way her lips curl over the lip of the glass. She swirls the liquid in her mouth before swallowing, cringing much less than she did the first time.
She’s getting a taste for it. And I’m hoping to get a taste ofher.
“Glad you changed your mind.”
She nods while setting the shot glass down. “Janine took over for me.”
I shift toward her and slide my arm behind her back, dragging my fingers over the exposed flesh between her shoulder blades. A soft whimper drifts from her lips as she turns to me with furrowed brows, a question sitting just on the tip of her tongue.
But whatever she’s about to ask dissipates as I clasp my mouth over hers. Every sound that might create an inquiry transforms into a hungry moan. Her alluring voice vibrates as she resonates against my tongue. Her body goes temporarily rigid as I establish dominance, sliding a hand between her thighs.
It’s such a simple motion that prompts a shuddering twitch, drawing a long, sustained moan from her lungs that I gladly swallow.
She’s so receptive to my touch. This poor girl hasn’t been pleased in ages.
Doesn’t matter. I’ll have her shaking beneath me in a matter of seconds. And after that? She’ll wantsomuch more of me.
A whimpering sigh rises from her tremoring throat as I release her lips to decorate her chin. My kisses tilt her head back and expose her neck, revealing the pulsing vein and the rapid thrum of her heart. Her breasts swell with each breath as I dip into her cleavage and toy with the button of her jeans, eliciting a buck that declares her desire.
“You want me so bad, don’t you,devushka?”
Her skin pricks with goose bumps as she struggles to speak through broken gasps. I slide my fingers beneath the waistband of her jeans and tease the front of her soaked panties.
A groan sounds from her mouth, followed by, “Oh,fuck me…”
“Patience.”
She digs her nails into my shoulders while I nudge aside her tank top with my nose. Her nipple hardens under my breath, inviting me to unfurl my tongue and lap at the pink nub. As my mouth plays with her sensitive flesh, my fingers curl beneath her panties and prod the wet folds to her sex.
I glance up and notice the concentration splattered on her features. Her eyebrows knit together, and her mouth creates a nearly perfect oval shape. A light gasp rises and halts in her throat as I push my finger further into her wet folds. Her brows part in shock and her hips curl toward me.
None of the women in my past have reacted to my touch this way; they were often loud, prone to making exaggerated sounds, as if they could convince me of their fake pleasure.
