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Her bare skin was a canvas, and I painted it with adoration. My lips brushed over her nipples, taut with arousal, and she arched into me, a moan slipping past her parted lips. I reveled in the sounds she made, the way her body responded to my every touch. As I worshipped her, my mind was filled with a singular thought: she was mine, and I would have her in every way imaginable.
“Fuck, Mila,” I cursed softly as I explored further, “you’re perfect.” My hands caressed her waist, her hips, the contours and dips of her figure that held me spellbound. Every compliment I uttered was a truth etched deeply into my very being. She was the embodiment of every lust-filled fantasy, and tonight, she was here beneath me, ready to be claimed.
My mouth found hers again, and our tongues danced a heated rhythm of longing and passion. I could taste the sweet tang of her desire, and it left me ravenous for more. She was an intoxicating elixir, and I was drunk on the essence of her.
As I descended, my lips began their pilgrimage at the tender arches of Mila’s feet, each kiss a testament to the desire coursing through me. “You’re so beautiful,” I murmured against her soft skin, feeling her pulse quicken beneath my touch. My hands glided upwards, tracing the elegant lines of her calves, eliciting shivers that mirrored my own growing need.
Her moans filled the opulent bedroom, echoing off the walls and stirring a primal ache within me. Each sound was a siren call, drawing me ever closer to the core of her heat. The tingling sensations left by my lips seemed to ignite a fire on her skin—a fire that reflected in the deepening flush that spread over her body.
“God, Mila,” I breathed as my mouth reached the tender flesh of her thighs. Her legs parted in an unspoken invitation, one I was all too eager to accept. But before succumbing to that sweet temptation, I paused at her waist, hovering just above the fabric of her delicate panties. Our eyes locked, and in that moment, the world narrowed to the heated intensity between us.
“I want you,” I confessed, the words heavy with the weight of my longing. “More than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. More than at the ball, more than any moment before or after.” It was a raw truth, spoken from the depths of my soul.
Mila’s gaze never faltered. She nodded slowly, her breath hitching in her throat. “I want this… I want you, Cassius,” she affirmed. The vulnerability in her admission only fueled my desire to possess her completely.
Resuming my exploration, I kissed the soft expanse of her abdomen, relishing the way she quivered under my touch. With every brush of my lips, every caress of my fingers, Mila responded with gasps and moans that drove me wild. Her stomach, her inner thighs—I worshipped them all, leaving no inch of her skin untouched, no nerve ending unstimulated.
“Ah, Cassius… please…” Her pleas were music to my ears, a symphony of passion that played upon every sense. And as I continued to indulge in her responses, I knew that this was just the beginning. This was where we crossed the threshold from simmering tension to an inferno of carnal delight, and I intended to burn with her until nothing remained but the ashes of our restraint.
“Mila,” I breathed against her fevered skin as I took one of her breasts into my mouth. Her nipple hardened under the coaxing pull of my lips, a perfect berry that I suckled with an insatiable hunger. Mila arched beneath me, pressing into my touch, her gasps filling the room like a siren’s call.
“More… Cassius… Oh God, yes…” she moaned, her fingers weaving through my hair, guiding me to lavish more attention onto her aching peaks.
I worshiped her breast with my mouth, swirling my tongue around her sensitive nipple before gently grazing it with my teeth, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from her. The taste of her skin, the sound of her pleasure—it was intoxicating, an elixir of desire that left me craving more.
Descending lower, I traced the curve of her waist, my hands parting her thighs with a reverence reserved for the sacred. As I reached the juncture of her thighs, I inhaled deeply, the scent of her arousal a potent perfume that made my head swim. My lips hovered above her pussy, feeling the heat emanate from her core.
“Beautiful,” I murmured before pressing a kiss there, tasting the sweetness of her cunt, the essence of Mila itself. She opened herself willingly to my exploration, her legs spreading wider in silent invitation. With each flick of my tongue over her clit, the flavor of her excitement grew stronger on my palate, a taste I’d come to crave above all others.
Her breathing quickened, her body trembling as I continued to pleasure her, my tongue dancing expertly over her swollen nub. Her hips bucked against my face, seeking even greater contact, and I obliged, delving deeper into her folds, drawing circles around her center of pleasure.
“Ah, fuck… right there, don’t stop,” Mila panted, her hands desperately clutching at my hair, urging me closer.
“Tell me what you want, Mila,” I growled against her, my voice muffled by the slickness of her flesh.
“Your fingers… inside me… please, Cassius,” she begged, her voice cracking with the intensity of her need.
I slid one finger into her wetness, feeling her clench around me, tight and hot. It wasn’t enough—not for her, not for me. I added another, stretching her, filling her, my movements measured and deliberate. The sounds she made were primal, guttural, and they drove me to push her further, to bring her to the edge and watch her fall.
“Fuck, you feel incredible,” I groaned, marveling at how she enveloped me, how she responded to my every touch. The sight of my fingers disappearing into her, the slick sound of her arousal as I moved within her—it was all-consuming, a feast for the senses that left no room for anything but this moment, this connection.
“More, Cassius, oh God, I’m—”
Her words broke off into a high-pitched keening, a testament to the sensations coursing through her. I felt her body tighten, coil, then shatter, her orgasm washing over her in waves that seemed to pulse through me as well.
“Mila,” I whispered, awestruck by the power of her release, by the trust she had placed in me to bring her to such heights.
Her breaths came in ragged gasps, her chest heaving as she slowly returned from the heights of her climax. The sheets were twisted around us, a testament to the fervor of our encounter. Mila’s eyes fluttered open, glazed with that post-orgasmic haze, yet they burned with an unquenched fire—a fire that was all for me.
“More,” she breathed out, her voice husky. Her hands reached for me, tracing the lines of my abdomen before pushing against my chest. I allowed myself to be moved, to be guided by her insistent touch as I lay back on the bed, watching her with a mixture of awe and anticipation.
Mila, with movements that betrayed her eagerness, straddled me—her hands deftly undoing my belt, unzipping my trousers with urgency. She peeled away the layers between us, revealing my hardness, standing at attention for her, and only her.
“Finally,” she whispered, almost reverently, as she wrapped her delicate fingers around my cock. She looked up at me, her eyes alight with mischief and lust. “I’ve been thinking about this since the that night at Wintertide.”
Her head dipped down, and the warmth of her mouth enveloped me. A deep groan escaped my lips—the sensation divine, her tongue a wicked instrument of pleasure that swirled around me, drawing me deeper into the heat of her.
“Mila… This is… Fuck… it’s incredible,” I managed between gasps, my hands instinctively finding their way into her hair, guiding her, encouraging every intoxicating movement.
