He memorized her body with his palms, sliding over her silky skin. The lush curves, the sides of her breasts, under them, all along her narrow rib cage, and then sweeping down to her waist. He followed his hands with his mouth, using his lips to kiss her, his tongue to stroke velvet caresses and his teeth to nip and show her how nerve endings fired under a slow assault.
His blood roared in his ears, rushed through his veins straight to his groin until he was so full and hard he thought he might burst. Just touching her did that to him. Looking at her. Feeling the silk of her hair against his body. The satin of her skin sliding under his palm. She was so beautiful, a woman he never believed he could ever have. His own.
He kissed her belly button, nuzzled her flat stomach and allowed his hands to drift lower, over her hips, tracing the bones there, lower still to her thighs. He felt her muscles shift and ripple, dance with arousal. His mouth moved lower, his hands parting her thighs, giving him access to her heat. His tongue swiped a slow, easy taste, languid and lazy, taking his time.
The breath slammed out of her and her hips bucked. She cried out his name, her fingernails digging into his shoulder. He tightened his grip on her hips, pinning her down so he could continue his exploration uninterrupted. She was pure liquid fire. She tasted like heaven, and he indulged himself. This was for her… but he couldn’t resist.
He’d forgotten. The taste of her was in his mouth when he woke in the early morning hour, but still, he’d forgotten just how good it really was. The first few minutes were purely selfish. Her nails bit deeper and her breath came in ragged gasps as his mouth and tongue took her up so that the tension coiled tight and fiery deep inside her. He added a finger, pressing deep through her tight muscles.
“Casimir.” Her breath exploded out of her lungs.
“Let go,” he commanded softly. “Just let go, lyubov moya, let it take you.” He kept up his assault on her senses, his mouth greedy, but still as gentle as he could be when he wasn’t a gentle man. “Nothing is hotter to me than watching you come apart for me.” He meant that. He loved looking into her eyes. Giving her that gift. The sound of her voice, breathy, ragged, gasping his name. It was music. Beautiful. A paradise he never thought he could ever have.
Her eyes on his, she did exactly what he commanded, her channel, scorching hot, clamped down on his finger, and his cock jerked hungrily. She shuddered, her hips writhing, pushing deeper against his finger, her hands moving over his shoulders and down his arms to his wrists.
“Please, honey, I need you.”
He wasn’t going to make her beg. Not this time. This time he wanted her to know in every single cell in her body that she was thoroughly loved. He wanted her to feel him, branded inside her, deep, where she would never get him out. He pushed her knees up and apart and moved over her.
“Wrap me up, malyshka,” he ordered softly. “Lock your heels around my hips. I want to feel every inch of you against me.”
He circled his cock with his fist and pushed the crown into her hot, slick entrance. The feeling was excruciatingly beautiful. Tight. Hot. Scalding. He waited while she obeyed him, while she circled him with her arms as well as her legs, until every inch of her front was melted into his.
Fire was there. Her fire. His. He felt it in his belly, a roaring he couldn’t quite control. He felt it in his cock as he pushed through her fiery sheath, forcing her to give way for his invasion. So tight. So perfect. He didn’t power through. He forced himself to keep to the gentle, leisurely pace that he knew was killing both of them.
One slow inch at a time. He watched himself disappear into her body. So beautiful. He could feel the slow assault, his thick cock forcing her muscles to give way, to stretch to accommodate his size. It felt as if a fiery fist clamped down around him, her muscles like a vise, stroking and caressing with velvet flames. Slowly, relentlessly, he forced his way, inch by slow inch, into her until he was seated deep, holding her still, letting her body adjust to the burning, stretched feeling. Letting his adjust to the fire.
Her mouth rounded, her lips forming his name, but only a soft groan escaped. Her lashes fluttered and her hips pressed deeper into him, urging him without words to move. She needed movement. Wanted it. Demanded it. She was so beautiful under him, her body swaying with every movement of his. Her breasts jolted invitingly, nipples hard little pebbles against his chest, the feeling unbelievably erotic to him. Her hips bucked harder, trying to drive down on him, to force him into compliance.
“You can’t move, malyshka,” he cautioned, clenching his teeth against the pleasure radiating out from his cock to the rest of his body. She gripped him so tight, the fire so hot, it bordered on pain, yet he didn’t want it to ever end. “I’m not going to last five minutes if you don’t hold still. You’ve taken away my control.” He’d worked hard for that control. It had been beaten into him and now, when he needed it most, when it had never failed him before, he was in danger of losing it completely.