He was large. He knew that. In some cases it was a good thing. When it came to being in that hot, sacred mouth, that paradise he’d unconsciously sought his entire life, maybe not so much. He wanted all the way in. All the way. He wanted to bury himself deep, feel his balls against her delicate chin, the head of him with her throat squeezing around him. He wanted it all. He stayed in control, but just barely, he was losing it fast. She shredded it with her mouth and fingers so easily.
She used her tongue and then sucked him deeper. An inch. Cautious. Still exploring.
“Lissa, I have to tell you the truth here. You’re done with claiming. I’m branded. Yours. No one else. You alone. I’m not going to be able to take much more, so let’s move this to the bed.” He meant it. He was more than about done, he was already gone. His icy, rigid control had melted under the siege of her fiery mouth and he had to end this before he began thrusting deep and scared the hell out of her.
5
Lissa tilted her head back, but she didn’t release Casimir’s cock. The head was so soft, like velvet, broad and flared, and he tasted delicious. Salty, but unique. She couldn’t quite figure out how when everything she’d read told her some women didn’t like the taste. Maybe the taste varied from man to man, but whatever, she wasn’t letting Casimir take over until she was done. And she wasn’t done.
She looked up at him and drew him a little deeper. Suckled. Watched his eyes grow even darker with lust. He liked what she was doing. She might not know exactly what to do, but her instincts and all the books she’d read gave her a few clues. Lust mixed with emotions she couldn’t name blazed in the shocking silver of his eyes. She loved that look. That passion she’d kept locked up for so long answered that look. She felt it rise in her even more.
She loved the taste and shape of him. The steel spike under all that soft skin. She loved to run her tongue along that throbbing vein and tease the underside of the head with her tongue so she could feel him pulse hotly in her mouth. She really loved the way his fingers curled in her hair, forming two tight fists while he held her head in position without forcing it down over him. She loved that his hips seemed to thrust without his consent. Shallow, but with enough insistence that she knew he could take over at any moment, but he chose not to.
Staring into his eyes, she sucked him deeper, sliding her mouth around him, getting used to his girth. It wasn’t easy, but Lissa never backed down when she wanted something, and seeing the look in his eyes, feeling the nearly helpless movement of his hips, she wanted this more than she wanted most things. For herself. For him. Because neither one of them ever had anything real. For her, this was the real woman giving something to the real man. She wanted him to understand that. This was for Casimir Prakenskii and not one of the many roles he played.
The silver in his eyes went molten. His face darkened. The lust grew stronger, but so did those emotions. She’d touched the real man, not the fake ones, and she knew it. Reveled in it. He didn’t pull away from her, but tightened his hold in her hair.
“Get the shaft very wet, golubushka, use your tongue and saliva. That will help.” He removed one hand from her hair to wrap around her fist, showing her the movement. “Keep your mouth tight as you work my cock, but Lissa, I’m not coming in your mouth or on you, not this time, I want inside you, so when I say to stop, I want you to stop.”
There was steel in his voice. His will was steel. She wanted to smile around the length and girth of him because he didn’t yet know that there was steel in her. She gave in because she wanted to, never because someone forced her to. He’d been forged in the fires of hell, but in a way, so had she. They matched. She knew that. She hadn’t wanted or expected to feel for him like she did. She hadn’t known it was possible to forge a bond so strong so fast when she knew next to nothing about him. Still, it was there. And she was giving them both a gift. Making them both real people, not the fake roles they normally lived their lives in.
She followed his instructions, using her tongue, her saliva, to spread moisture up and down his hard shaft. Her fist followed and then she took him into her mouth again. She loved having him there. Owning him. She did own him like this. He gave himself up to her and she had all the power in those heady moments.
She suckled, hollowed her cheeks, and each time she slid her mouth down over him in time to the rhythm of her fist, she took him deeper. Her jaws became used to the width of him while her mouth loved the feel and taste of him. His hand left hers to resume the fist in her hair and suddenly everything changed.