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The look he gives me is every bit that of a man who knows he’s in total and complete control. His lips and teeth run down my throat, drawing a sigh from me. All uncertainty, all thoughts are forgotten when he gets on his knees and pushes my dress to my waist to press his face between my legs.
There’s something completely uplifting and empowering about having a man on his knees in front of you. No guy has ever gone down on me like this before, but seeing Christian and all his raw, masculine energy lower himself in front of me is almost enough to make me climax on the spot.
He pulls my thong to the side and slides his tongue inside me. I groan. My hips arch and my hands find their way into his hair. My legs fall open farther when he licks up my clit, a shudder running through me.
“Oh God,” I breathe, my fingers tightening in his hair to hold him in place.
He shakes off my grip, his mouth moving down to my entrance. A moan escapes when he starts to fuck me with his tongue. He pulls back to yank my thong down my legs, tossing the fabric to the floor before pressing his face between my legs again with a sound of satisfaction. When he sucks my clit into his mouth, my eyes roll back into my head.
“How many men have done this to you?” he rasps, pulling back to look up at me.
I barely even hear him. The words are lost in a cloud of lust and desire.
“Daniella!” Christian calls, gripping my thighs and stopping his ministrations.
My eyes widen and I swipe at him with my nails. A silent order for him to continue. He grins.
“Not until you tell me how many men have gone down on you.”
“You want a fucking list?” I snap.
“How many?” he growls.
My jaw tightens, “How many women have you gone down on?”
His eyes darken, but I want to strangulate him. Things were going so well. What is wrong with him?
“Christian, I swear to God if you—”
“Tell me how many men have gone down on you,” he insists.
My head falls back against the wall as I think about it. “I don’t know. Ten, fifteen,” I say, throwing out some numbers.
His hands tighten around me and he slips one finger inside me. I smile at the low growl that emanates from him.
“Two,” I finally confess when he adds another finger, thrusting in and out softly. I pant, “Only two men have ever gone down on me. Plus you.”
He seems satisfied by that answer, which is annoying. “Who was the first?”
My first instinct is to yell at him and call him a pompous dick. Then I change my mind, smirking as I look him in the eye.
“Do you really want me to be thinking about my ex right now?”
His eyes glint with something fierce and dangerous. He gets to his feet, pressing a quick kiss to my lips before trailing his lips down my neck and sucking a spot hard enough to leave a hickey behind. I swear, I’ve never met a man more territorial. He’s trying to mark me in every way possible.
“I don’t want you to think of anyone else except me,” he says softly.
My heart aches at the statement because I can catch an undercurrent of emotion beneath the words. It’s a glimpse of Christian that he likes to keep hidden. Something he probably considers a weakness. But the vulnerable look disappears and he’s suddenly Christian again, all rough edges and dark velvety words. His fingers drift toward my pussy. His entire body serves as a cage, keeping me locked inside this maddening heat and lust and desire.
“Tell me who this belongs to,” he murmurs. “Who does this sweet pussy belong to?”
“It’s mine,” I gasp, panting when his thumb reaches my clit.
He slips a finger inside me, swirling around the wetness that’s gathered and pressing his thumb even tighter on my clit.
“If you want to come,tesoro, you’re going to have to tell me who this belongs to.”
I wish I could say I have iron will and I refused to give him the satisfaction of bending to his will. But the minute he slips another finger inside me, filling me and touching a spot that makes my eyes roll into the back of my head, I break.
