I was shuddering as I blindly obeyed. Cold water hit my tongue. I swallowed quickly, hadn’t realized how thirsty I was.
“More?”
I’d never had such delicious water. “Uh-huh.”
The stream returned, along with the tip of his finger, tracing my lips. I sucked the finger, drinking from it before he pulled it away.
Then nothing but sounds. The fire crackling. My panting breaths, his harsh ones. Moments passed. . . .
Against my lips, I felt the head of his cock. He was rimming my mouth as water trickled down his length. The visual of Sevastyan, funneling water along his shaft to my waiting mouth . . . Oh, God, oh, God.
I stretched my head up to suckle him, but he kept that luscious crown from my tongue. I strained to free my wrists, needing to drink him dry . . . yet he tormented me, daubing the head to my lips, then drawing it away.
Another grazing contact, more cool water. The world began to fade away until only Sevastyan existed.
Then absence. No contact. I was about to cry out when his finger returned. I sucked it hard, swirling my tongue, letting him know what I’d do with his cock. He must’ve gotten the message; a growl broke from his chest.
When he withdrew his finger, I gasped, “Why are you teasing me like this?”
“My greedy girl wants more?”
“You know I do!”
Pressure against my lips. His own?
Sevastyan was kissing me with light laps of his tongue against my seeking one. I moaned into his mouth, but he kept the pace slow, languid, laying his hand over the side of my face. He broke from the kiss to brush feather-light grazes of his lips over my cheek, my chin, along my jawline, then back to my waiting mouth, to take my tongue with his.
The most tender, romantic kiss I’d ever received.
As if he cherished me.
He’d tied me up to use my body, then given me a lover’s kiss.
Maddening man! As his lips and tongue leisurely claimed my own, I thrashed against my bonds, desperate to grasp his head, to bury my fingers in his hair so I could hold his mouth to mine.
I feared I’d lose my mind before the afternoon was through. And quite possibly my virginity. Did I trust what he’d said, about not f**king me until I begged? Yes. But did I trust my promise to myself not to beg?
Perhaps I wasn’t strong enough to resist him.
He pulled away, brushing my hair from my forehead, adjusting my blindfold just so. “Lovely little Natalya.”
I sputtered, “How do you have so much control?”
“I made you a promise that you’d come harder than you ever have before. I keep my promises to you. Now, open your mouth again.”
I eagerly did, licking my lips for whatever he wanted to put between them. . . .
His cock. Without the water. Allowing me to better taste him. I eagerly lapped at the plump head, tonguing the moistened slit in the middle.
When he took it away, I thrashed anew. “Nooo!”
With one hand, he caged my throat; with his other, he thumbed a nipple. “Still.”
I somehow calmed myself. Then another sensation against my mouth. Tightly rippled flesh. When I realized what he’d given me this time, I shot up, moaning against his testicles, my tongue swathing the ridges. In my frenzy, I sucked one wholly between my lips, trying for the other.
“Uhn!” He groaned long and low. “Greedy girl,” he repeated.
Again he drew away, depriving me. Of his skin, his flesh, his sex, his mouth. He’d deprived me of this world he’d created—where he was everything. What would he do next? How would he touch me?
I felt his mouth on my breast, trailing kisses toward my nipple. Would he torment me as he had on the plane, avoiding the tips . . . ?
Yet as he licked the globes of my br**sts, he pinched both ni**les. Hard.
Harder. Tightening down on the peaks. It was painful—blissfully so.
He rasped, “You like that.”
“Oh, God,” I moaned as he pulled on them—
Only to abruptly release them.
He leaned down, mouth and tongue wrapping around a nipple, softly suckling as if to kiss away a pang. When he released it, I twisted to arch my other breast to him.
A dark chuckle sounded against my skin, but he obliged me. Once he began tracing his lips down my torso, he left both of my ni**les aching and damp in his wake—and me already on the verge of coming.
He reached my navel, circling it with flicks of his tongue, then kissing it as if he were drinking from me. As his mouth dipped lower, he laid his hands flat over my upper thighs, his fingers stretching to my mons. Like he’d done in the cornfield.
Reading my mind, he said, “I’ve imagined that night ending differently. I fantasized that you wanted me to f**k you there, under the moon.” He pulled my lips apart with such a sure touch. I could feel how soaked I was, how my folds flared.
His finger followed my wet seam, making me shudder. “Ty takaya nezhnaya.” You’re so soft. “So beautiful here.” My hips thrust hungrily, my exposed pu**y empty. “How could I not want to devour you at every chance?” He cupped my bottom. With his ringed fingers splayed across my ass, he lifted me like a bowl to his mouth, then ran the tip of his tongue from my core to my clit.
“Oh, God, yes!”
One finger entered me as he licked. Then he wedged a second one inside. But he removed them too soon, too soon—
“Do you want to know what heaven is for me?” Those fingers briefly dipped into my mouth for me to suck.
My taste! My taste was heaven for him. How could that turn me on so much? Again he took those fingers away too soon.