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Adrian releases one of my thighs and holds my legs together with one hand, driving in even deeper. His free hand reaches between us and my eyes widen when he presses his thumb against my back entrance.
He glides it inside and the resistance is real, but so is the exploding of pleasure pooling in my core. The more he pushes in, the tighter I clench around him.
“Adrian…” I moan.
“Say it again.”
“Adrian.”
“Yes.” His eyes are a hot fire as his pace increases in both depth and rhythm.
I guess it shouldn’t hurt to let him hear my voice for one final time.
“Adrian…” I moan. “Ahh…Adrian…” Tears pool in my eyes, and I don’t know if it’s the hormones or the fact that I’ve also missed him or the knowledge that I won’t have this anymore.
I won’t have anyone who understands my carnal needs even better than I ever would and makes them all come true.
A low, husky groan rips from his lips as he speaks sharp, short words in Russian, probably cursing.
“Do you have any idea how much I’ve missed your throaty little moans?” he rasps, his accent thicker than usual, as he pushes his thumb in my tight hole. “You’ll scream for me when I claim this ass, won’t you, Lenochka?”
My breathing is chopped off by the relentless, delicious way he’s fucking me and the intrusion of his finger. My nipples ache so much that two wet spots form on the shirt. I cover them up with a hand, but Adrian has already noticed.
A grunt spills from his lips, sounding almost animalistic in his lust. “Let go.”
I slowly do, and his fiery eyes take in the soaked cloth and my protruding nipples through the shirt.
“Fuck,” Adrian breathes out, slowing down to watch the evidence of my lactation.
“It’s the hormones,” I murmur, shame burning my ears.
“I fucking love the hormones.”
“Adrian…” I move my hips against him.
“What?”
“Don’t…stop…”
A sheen of wild hunger and something else covers his features as he picks up his pace again. I don’t know if it’s because of that or his finger at my back entrance or his eyes on my breasts, but I come the hardest I have since I can remember.
This orgasm is stronger and longer than earlier and I roll my hips to ride it out. I don’t mute my moans either, because selfishly, this is the memory I want to leave him with.
This moment right here—of me moaning his name. I don’t want him to ever forget this or me.
Adrian curses in Russian as he empties himself inside me, then falls beside me. We remain there, panting for a moment. Me on my back and Adrian on his side.
He props himself up on his elbow, his hooded eyes zeroing in on my shirt that’s soaked with lactation from the orgasm.
Adrian undoes the buttons, and my face heats when he uncovers my nipples, which are still hard, with beads of transparent liquid leaking from them.
“So messy,” he teases.
“It’s the hormones,” I murmur.
“I should take care of the hormones, then.”
“W-what?”
