Emins’ Mate(28)

“Shhhh, kvietka,” Emin murmured in her ear, rearing up over her and stroking a soothing hand over her side.

“Oh, god.” She clenched her legs together and shivered with an aftershock. Emin planted a hand on her thigh and she automatically let her legs part for him. He trailed a hand over the sensitive skin there. “Oh, Emin. I didn’t know.”

She looked at him as if he’d invented sunshine. Or cold, clear water. Or orgasms. He couldn’t remember ever feeling better or prouder, or more like pounding his chest.

“Do you get to feel that way, too?” she asked him, her big green eyes wide with innocence.

“Are you asking if I can come?” he chuckled. “Yes. It is something I enjoy.”

Without blinking, or a hint of embarrassment, in her perfect, Glory way, she asked him, “Can I make you do it? The way you did for me?”

Emin cleared his throat. “Yes, but-”

He didn’t get to finish that sentence as she was already yanking down his sweatpants and boxer briefs. He was springing free from his clothes before he could draw his next breath.

“Oh,” Glory breathed, as she tossed his pants away. Emin still lay on his side as she crawled toward him, at perfect eye level with his cock. “It’s so much bigger than when I saw it before!”

He cracked a quick, pained grin. “I want you very much. It makes it big.”

“For me?”

“For you.”

“Oh,” she breathed again, leaning forward.

Part of him wanted to tell her to slow down. That there was no need for any of this right now. That they had a long time to get acquainted with one another’s bodies. But then her pink little tongue peeked out of her mouth and she licked across the head of his cock.

Yeah. There weren’t really words or thoughts or life after that. It was just feeling.

“Fuck,” he ground out between clenched teeth as she did it again. And then she was swallowing him and moaning.

“You taste like you,” she whispered. “Even here, you have that flavor that I love.” And then she was swallowing him again. Swirling her tongue and fluttering her eyes closed. Her zealous, unschooled technique made his eyes cross. She was undoing him. Peeling him like a banana, one suck at a time. He’d never felt this before. He knew, without a doubt in his artist’s heart, that he never would feel it again. Not with anyone but her.

She licked the entire length of him with the flat of her tongue and hummed in pleasured delight. She looked up, catching his eye, and licked a circle around the head. He was losing himself in this. He was spiraling down into unknown territory. A place where pleasure was mixed inextricably with intimacy, with knowledge of a person.

It was too much. He couldn’t take it. So, grabbing her shoulders, he hauled her up, over him. Their bodies slid, a perfect fit, her legs tangling with his.

He fused their mouths together and groaned at their combined flavor.

“Fuck,” he growled again and rolled them so that he was over her. “This is how a man’s touch feels.” He pinned her arms above her head in one hand and trailed the other down her neck, over her ribs. He raked his thumb across one nipple and then the other.

“This is how it feels to be touched by me, Glory. What you have been asking for.”

She arched against him, her eyes doing that open, unseeing thing again. He was rough, impatient, and confident that she could take it. She was inexperienced, innocent, but she was far from weak.

She was strong, vibrant, demanding, and laid out before him like a bouquet of succulent fruit. She was ripe and fragrant and bursting with flavors he couldn’t get enough of.

“This is what a man’s mouth feels like, kvietka,” he growled, sucking on the slope of her breast, leaving a mark. “And his teeth.”

He bit at the skin below her breast and she arched even harder.

“Yes,” she whispered, her head whipping from one side to the other. So he bit her again, on her shoulder. At the same time, his hand traced down between her legs and they both groaned at the sensation.

“So wet,” he groaned, pressing a finger inside of her. And he couldn’t help but take her flesh between his teeth, roll it there, sucking and biting. He knew he might be bruising her, but she was tough, arching into him.

“More,” she moaned. “More, Emin. Everything.”

His thumb insistently circled her clit, two other fingers stroking her from the inside until he found a spot inside her that had her screaming.

And, god, he loved that. Her hair tangled and fanning out, her eyes wide and untamed. He loved that he could turn her into the animal that she was. Wild and writhing and screaming for him.