up as his powerful body slid down
until his knees hit the floor. His hands coaxed me in long sweeping caresses
and dragged my pants down, urging me into a straddle over his face. His touch
shut me down again, fogged over the “What the fuck?” and set me alight. Then
his tongue ran a wet, flat rasp along the seam of my sex and my fingers
clenched into the short strands of his hair, raking his scalp as my hips rolled
of their own volition and he captured my delicate folds in the kiss of his
mouth.
So good, he was a master as he caught onto my
rhythm, his large hands curving around the rounds of my ass and guiding my
grinding need to the lash of his tongue, a perfect tempo working sensitive
flesh to a fever pitch of lust I didn’t know I was capable of. I didn’t care
why I was doing this, or what would happen after, he had my desire captivated
and reined to the curling strokes he lavished between my quivering thighs.
To say I surrendered was an understatement. I was
completely at his mercy and in his unrelenting quest to tear my body apart he
gave me none.
“Konstantyn, dammit! Do something!” I gritted out a
frustrated whine as his teeth skimmed over my clit. He was doing it on purpose,
his smug laughter making me wish he had more hair for me to yank. So I clamped
my thighs around his head and ground down desperately, working myself on tongue
and chin and lip to the sound of his satisfied growls. So close, I was so close
I could see stars, I just needed… Yes! That! His teeth pinched and his lips
sealed on my swollen clit, and I shattered.
Thighs quaking against his stubbled jaw, my orgasm
swept up and over me in a tidal wave of ecstasy, stripping me down to quaking
muscles and shocking sensation. When bliss stole my strength, I caught myself
on the back of the couch and lay half-slumped over him, gasping his name in a
slew of curses.
His rumbled laughter was smug as he licked at me
lazily, and if I’d been in a position to slap him, I would have, but I was too
content, boneless and sprawling and trying to keep out the thoughts that were
sure to come crawling back.
His warm palms slid me down into his bare lap, and
the feel of his legs against my skin – thick muscled and dusted with dark hair
– jerked me from my buzz. We were not going to cuddle, and his cock was far too
happy for me to be safe cozying up in his lap.
I scrabbled to my feet, the slickness of my own
passion and his wicked tongue still wet between my thighs as I dragged my pants
up and drew in a breath. Konstantyn watched me silently, his eyes hooded,
and when his tongue ran along his glossed lips my thighs clenched.
Dammit.
He didn’t say anything, and neither did I, as I
gathered up the discarded iodine bottle and cotton pads. He was bleeding again
and he grabbed a corner of the throw, folding it across his lap and leaning
back so I could run the disinfectant over the razor blade cuts I’d been
distracted from.
I could still taste him, and I fumbled the first
few tries at taping gauze over the worst of the lacerations, my hands shaking
when his muscles twitched, like he was ticklish, or flinching. Whatever it was,
it was distracting, and I had to order myself to seal him up, smoothing the
tape down and sitting back when I’d finished patching him up. With the amount
of gauze covering his skin, he looked like he was part mummy.
“It’s a good dressing,” he pronounced, checking
over my handiwork.
“You like it? It’s my first,” I laughed, copying a
line from one of my favourite movies, and looking up at him for the first time
since he’d made me come. I fought to keep the blush from my cheeks.
“The Terminator, right?” His smile was genuine. It
settled me, easing some of the awkwardness.
“Yeah.” His smile had struck me monosyllabic. I
cleared my throat and smiled back, tidying up the kit I’d brought to tend him.
Konstantyn’s fingers linked my wrist and halted my
organising. His fingertips brushed over my
until his knees hit the floor. His hands coaxed me in long sweeping caresses
and dragged my pants down, urging me into a straddle over his face. His touch
shut me down again, fogged over the “What the fuck?” and set me alight. Then
his tongue ran a wet, flat rasp along the seam of my sex and my fingers
clenched into the short strands of his hair, raking his scalp as my hips rolled
of their own volition and he captured my delicate folds in the kiss of his
mouth.
So good, he was a master as he caught onto my
rhythm, his large hands curving around the rounds of my ass and guiding my
grinding need to the lash of his tongue, a perfect tempo working sensitive
flesh to a fever pitch of lust I didn’t know I was capable of. I didn’t care
why I was doing this, or what would happen after, he had my desire captivated
and reined to the curling strokes he lavished between my quivering thighs.
To say I surrendered was an understatement. I was
completely at his mercy and in his unrelenting quest to tear my body apart he
gave me none.
“Konstantyn, dammit! Do something!” I gritted out a
frustrated whine as his teeth skimmed over my clit. He was doing it on purpose,
his smug laughter making me wish he had more hair for me to yank. So I clamped
my thighs around his head and ground down desperately, working myself on tongue
and chin and lip to the sound of his satisfied growls. So close, I was so close
I could see stars, I just needed… Yes! That! His teeth pinched and his lips
sealed on my swollen clit, and I shattered.
Thighs quaking against his stubbled jaw, my orgasm
swept up and over me in a tidal wave of ecstasy, stripping me down to quaking
muscles and shocking sensation. When bliss stole my strength, I caught myself
on the back of the couch and lay half-slumped over him, gasping his name in a
slew of curses.
His rumbled laughter was smug as he licked at me
lazily, and if I’d been in a position to slap him, I would have, but I was too
content, boneless and sprawling and trying to keep out the thoughts that were
sure to come crawling back.
His warm palms slid me down into his bare lap, and
the feel of his legs against my skin – thick muscled and dusted with dark hair
– jerked me from my buzz. We were not going to cuddle, and his cock was far too
happy for me to be safe cozying up in his lap.
I scrabbled to my feet, the slickness of my own
passion and his wicked tongue still wet between my thighs as I dragged my pants
up and drew in a breath. Konstantyn watched me silently, his eyes hooded,
and when his tongue ran along his glossed lips my thighs clenched.
Dammit.
He didn’t say anything, and neither did I, as I
gathered up the discarded iodine bottle and cotton pads. He was bleeding again
and he grabbed a corner of the throw, folding it across his lap and leaning
back so I could run the disinfectant over the razor blade cuts I’d been
distracted from.
I could still taste him, and I fumbled the first
few tries at taping gauze over the worst of the lacerations, my hands shaking
when his muscles twitched, like he was ticklish, or flinching. Whatever it was,
it was distracting, and I had to order myself to seal him up, smoothing the
tape down and sitting back when I’d finished patching him up. With the amount
of gauze covering his skin, he looked like he was part mummy.
“It’s a good dressing,” he pronounced, checking
over my handiwork.
“You like it? It’s my first,” I laughed, copying a
line from one of my favourite movies, and looking up at him for the first time
since he’d made me come. I fought to keep the blush from my cheeks.
“The Terminator, right?” His smile was genuine. It
settled me, easing some of the awkwardness.
“Yeah.” His smile had struck me monosyllabic. I
cleared my throat and smiled back, tidying up the kit I’d brought to tend him.
Konstantyn’s fingers linked my wrist and halted my
organising. His fingertips brushed over my
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