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He waits until I’ve calmed—or at least, until I’m only gasping for air and not actively hyperventilating—before he carefully pulls his fingers from me.
Then he looks me in the eyes.
And sucks each finger clean.
“You taste better than champagne.” He says it like he’s actually comparing vintages. Like it’s an easy, factual statement and not something so salaciously naughty that I almost come again just from hearing it.
I lean up on my elbows right when he crawls over me. He’s fully naked—his towel is long forgotten, dropped to the floor sometime between his “wine tasting” and making me see stars.
When his face is only inches away from mine, he pauses yet again.
And again, I know it without having to ask: I’m able to leave if I want to.
Not a single cell in my body wants to.
I lean up just a bit more and his mouth slants over mine. The kiss is tentative at first, searching, then quickly melts into something far more passionate. My lips part only a fraction and his tongue sweeps between them, seeking mine to tangle with and suckle. Ican taste myself on his lips, on his tongue, and that alone makes my toes curl.
I’m not sure when or how he unzipped my dress. But it’s completely open now, and Demyen is tugging it off my body. My bra quickly follows.
He pulls away just long enough to drink the sight of me in. I’m completely naked and spread wide, a feast for his hungry gaze.
“Demyen,” I breathe. I want him. Ineedhim. He lit this fire inside me and now, he needs to put it out or I’ll die. Simple as that.
“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He rolls my nipple between his thumb and forefinger with just enough pressure to make my hips writhe. “You know that?”
Actually…No, I don’t. I’m not allowed to be beautiful. Not if I want to avoid Martin’s wrath.
I don’t wanthimtainting this incredible moment, or this incredible night, without even being here. So I lean into Demyen’s touch with a coy smile and smooth my hands over his washboard abs.
Fuck. Sothisis what those feel like.
I can feel him respond to my touch, and I’m loving the way his muscles twitch and tense under my fingertips.
When I glide my fingers over his length, he groans.
He’s so warm. And bare.
And fuckinghuge.
I literally don’t know how he’s going to fit inside me—all I know is I need him and I need him right. Fucking. Now.
Demyen seems to have the exact same idea, because he captures my wrist and pins me down onto the mattress. His fingers find mine and they lace together while his other hand reaches down between us.
I’m spread open even wider than before. It makes it possible for him to work himself into me, solid inch by solid, throbbing, iron-hard inch.
In a lesser world, with a lesser man, it might hurt. But Demyen keeps my hand clutched close and takes his time and kisses the curve of my neck as he slowly pushes into me. And so there’s no pain. I can feel nothing but pleasure.
Nothing buthim.
He hooks my injured ankle over his shoulder, kissing my calf and gazing into my eyes as he continues to work himself inside me. I want so badly to touch the dark, silky strands of his hair as it falls into his eyes, but my free arm can’t reach that far. He releases my other hand and I immediately grab for him, for any part of him I can caress…
But then I’m seeing stars again because his now-free hand has dipped down between us and strokes where we’re joined.
I’m unraveling at the seams of my sanity.
The grin on his face tells me he knows.
I’m still shivering in the aftermath of the first explosive release when Demyen guides my leg to wrap around his waist, then the other, and leans down to cover me with his body. His lips devourmine, and we’re a writhing, panting, groaning mass of tangled limbs and nipping teeth.
