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I feel like an animal salivating over its prey, and I feast on her like one too.
Nothing about the way I eat her cunt is gentle or sweet; I give into every baser instinct.
“Oh God. So good.” Her moan is like lightning to my senses. It settles over my flesh and spreads before snapping against the tip of my hardness. I can feel each bead of pre-come as it stains my trousers with each jerk against the fabric. No underpants. Nothing but a single piece of clothing is keeping me from her slick heat. “Never…good…more.”
Each word is a choked breath, her hips rolling against my mouth in search of more. And I give it to her because it’s my duty to do so. With the flat of my tongue, I part her lips and catch the rush of wetness that seeps from her entrance in a nirvanic rivulet.
“Son of a bitch,” I snarl against her swollen flesh, my tongue working her harder. I’m lost to her taste while slipping a finger inside to the first knuckle. Christ, she’s tight. Her walls are snug around my digit, clenching to pull me in deeper, but I don’t.
I keep my strokes shallow. Just caressing her entrance.
However, my lips suck her clit harshly, and I’m rewarded with the shaking of her thighs on either side of my head while her back arches off the mattress. Her hands are no longer in my hair but gripping her breasts, squeezing the firm globes while undulating against me.
My finger slips in deeper and then out, alternating between the suckling of her clit and labia. Her juices coat my mouth and chin, her tight walls begging for my cock while I finger fuck her with precise pumps that rub against that beautiful little patch of rough flesh that swells with each touch.
“Come for me, Venus. Feed me what is mine.”
“I’m close.” Aliana pinches her nipples, but it’s not hard enough. Not how I would.
I push them off her tits. “Hands up and don’t move them, love.”
“Callum, please. Just…oh fuck!” she screams out as I squeeze a nipple, pulling on the tip while my teeth scrape across her trembling bundle. It throbs, swells against my harsh licks and alternate sucks—her wetness seeping onto my wrist, but it’s the next time I bury two fingers deep and press against her spot that she loses control.
Aliana’s muscles contract, orgasm slamming into her with force as her eyes roll back and mouth drops open, but no sound comes out. Instead, I’m rewarded with the sight of her lost in pleasure and her natural saccharine sweetness on my tongue.
I don’t stop eating her until she calms and a satiated smile curves her lips. And even then, I take a few more licks before crawling up her body while leaving tiny kisses on her exposed, sensitive skin. Lip caught between her teeth, Aliana welcomes me and then moves without hesitation to cuddle into my chest when I lie facing up. My arms go around her, my lips at the crown of her head, and I find myself wanting this for more than today.
Yes, we need to talk and discuss our relationship.
Yes, she needs to meet the people I’m leaving to watch over her.
However, what I do is close my eyes and relax with her tucked in close. We’ll get up in a minute or twenty, I’ll order in dinner for us, but first I need her like this, so supple and warm and letting out a content sigh each time my hands rub up and down her back.
It further cements that we aren’t done. Not having this is something my male instincts rebel against.
If Casper doesn’t speak up, I will.
He needs to be here with Aurora, and I need my Venus home in London and standing to my right.
14
“Are you being honest right now?” Aliana asks, eyes narrowed while darting between myself and the man beside me and opposite of her the following afternoon. We’ve been sitting in her living room for thirty minutes now—she’d gone in to work for just a half day—and it’s been six hours since I woke her up with my face between her thighs. I’d licked every drop of her sweetness, made her coffee with a bagel, and then told her I’d be leaving tonight. The immediate sadness that flashed through those lovely orbs cut me deep. I don’t want to leave her, but the sooner I go, the sooner I’m back to escort her home.
Because she belongs with me. She’s my better half.
The Martin kid swallows hard. “I am.”
“Jesus, Giannis. Why didn’t you say anything before?” It’s not lost on me that she hasn’t given Kray more than a passing glance, not the least bit affronted by his presence in her home, at least, that’s because she doesn’t know he’ll be her shadow while I’m gone. That’s a conversation best had in private. I’m not taking no for an answer. However, the kid she’s known since middle school—he’s another matter. That’s her focus. There’s confusion, a bit of anger, and now sadness. “For crap’s sake, we’ve known each other for years, and it would’ve made things easier between us. At the least, I wouldn’t have been so rude to you.”
“I’m not blaming you for that. I was pushy.”
“But still.”
“It’s not that I didn’t, Ali. I just couldn’t.” Giannis flicks a quick look toward a sitting Kray who’s listening with a neutral expression. The bloke already sent me an email this morning with the header: Her name is Lindsey Blackheart, but I haven’t cared to open it. His reactions right now are speaking louder than words on a screen. “Too many factors stood in the way. People who asked me to keep it quiet; one of them being a good friend and the other my father—”
“He knows?”
“That I’m gay?” She nods and he shrugs, body language showing heavy exhaustion. “They all do.”
