Chapter 14
Kolya
She kneels between my legs, eyes wide and wanting, a flush spreading across her cheeks and down her throat.
Curiosity rather than submission. Desire and need that match my own.
She doesn’t understand what being submissive means. Not yet.
Her fingers tremble against my belt, hesitant but determined.
Since I first laid eyes on her, I’ve pictured this in my mind a hundred times.
Her at my feet, with her sweet face tilted up. All that bright energy focused solely on me.
Those fantasies pale in comparison to reality.
In my imagination, she was damaged and compliant, a toy to use and discard.
The woman in front of me is anything but broken.
She’s choosing this, which is infinitely more desirable. The fact that this innocent, guileless, sunshine incarnate teacher wants to pleasure me turns my dick harder than a rock.
My fingers twitch against my thigh. I want to reward her with my touch, because I need this so damn much and she’s just giving it to me.
Her nimble fingers work the leather of my belt, tongue darting out to wet her lips in concentration. There’s something obscene about her soft hands on my body. Hands that cut construction paper and wipe away children’s tears inch toward my cock.
The juxtaposition tightens my chest.
This is just work. Getting close to her, gaining her trust, finding those diamonds.
Except work doesn’t explain the heat raging through my veins like wildfire, or why I’m more aroused than I’ve ever been. The job doesn’t explain why her eager, nervous panting accelerates my pulse.
I’m losing control. Again.
That can’t happen.
I thread my hand through her hair and grip the nape of her neck.
To anchor. To own.
To remind us both who’s in charge.
Her pupils blow wide with lust, and her surprised gasp shoots another jolt of heat straight to my groin. “Let me?”
My other hand moves to my pants, methodically working the button, then the zipper while I hold her head still.
No rush. No desperation. Control regained, one heartbeat at a time.
She’s trembling beneath my grip, her eyes lit with anticipation.
Her shoulders rise and fall with each rapid breath, her teeth worrying her bottom lip as her dark eyes follow the motion of my hand.
I free myself, wrapping my fingers around my dick and stroking once, in full view of her flushed face.
Her eyes widen slightly, a flash of anxiety crossing her expression before resolve hardens her features.
I guide her forward with the hand that’s gripping her hair at the nape of her neck. “Open your mouth.”
She parts her lips immediately, eager to obey. As she should be.
A little hum of satisfaction blinks in the back of my mind.
She’s perfect.
I press the head of my cock against her lips, relishing the wet heat of her mouth. With an arch of my hips and slight tug on her hair, I slide in. The sensation of her enthusiastic tongue nearly undoes me. I tauten my grip on her hair, forcing myself to stay in control.
Her eyes—those trusting brown orbs—never leave mine. They stare up at me, unblinking, as I push deeper into her mouth.
I’ve fucked countless women without experiencing a fraction of the eroticism infusing me as Chloe takes me in her mouth.
I need to short-circuit this electric and dangerous connection between us before it incinerates us both.
I shove her head down farther, burying myself deep in her throat and concealing her eyes.
Her body fights the intrusion, but her desperate gag only fuels my arousal.
I ease back just enough to let her drag air in through her nose.
“Take more.” I push her down again, not quite as deep. Testing her limits. Seeing how far she’ll go. If she’ll let me use her, claim her, mark her as mine.
Her throat works around me, struggling to accommodate my size while her hands grip my thighs for balance. No resistance, except from her tight throat.
The tendons in her neck strain, and a single tear tracks a clean line through the glitter on her cheek.
Not pain or fear. Surrender.
Total, complete submission to the sensation of being filled, used, possessed.
A hairline fracture forms in the ice I’ve cultivated around my soul.
I want to wipe that tear away. Want to taste the salt on my tongue and replace it with more.
I loosen my grip and allow her to catch her breath.
She shocks me by swallowing me whole, sucking viciously while her tongue strokes the underside of my cock.
The heat of her, the moans, the press of her tongue and palate and throat…
My eyes roll back in my head, and my curling toes almost split the seams on my socks.
She inhales through her nose and drives herself back down, choking on my cock without any assistance from me.
“Fuck.” I feel my control slipping again.
My hand stays in her hair, no longer forcing but guiding, setting a rhythm she avidly follows.
She’s sloppy and inexperienced, but her enthusiasm more than atones for that.
Every awkward movement, every eager noise, only heightens my pleasure.
I haven’t witnessed this kind of pure, unvarnished, honest desire in years.
She pulls back, gasping for air, a string of saliva connecting her swollen lips to the head of my cock.
Her eyes meet mine again, searching for approval, for direction. For permission.
The praise falls from my lips like a prayer. “Good girl.”
The effect is immediate.
Her full-body tremor runs from her shoulders to her knees. A small whimper escapes her throat. Her free hand disappears between her legs, and I realize she’s touching herself, getting off on choking on my cock.
This vision of her—pleasuring herself while pleasuring me—is the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen.
Not because she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve slept with or the most skilled, but because she’s so damn authentic. Present and one-hundred-percent herself even with my dick in her mouth.
She sucks me deeper, growing more confident by the second. Her tongue swirls around the head before she plunges down. I ram the back of her throat, dirty talk spilling from my mouth unbidden.
“Oh, you’re a good little cocksucker.” My fingers curl in her hair. “You really want this, don’t you?”
She moans around me, the vibration launching shockwaves up my spine.
“Suck it like you really mean it. Show me what you can do. How good you are.”
In her urgency to prove herself, her pace quickens.
Every filthy word drives her to work harder, swallow more. Her free hand clutches my thigh, nails biting into the muscle as she bobs her head faster, sloppier, all technique abandoned in favor of pure enthusiasm. Obscene slurps fill her quiet home, punctuated by her whimpers.
“Keep going, and I’ll give you something to fill you up. That’s what you actually want, isn’t it? My load.”
A muffled whine escapes her throat as her pace accelerates.
She definitely wants it.
The pressure builds at the base of my balls, a tight coil that threatens to unravel me completely.
Her own body jerks. Her moans vibrate my cock.
I fight the impending orgasm, struggling to maintain control for just a few moments longer.
But when she peers up at me, teary eyes glazed with desire, her lips stretched around my dick, I snap.
My release hits with the force of a bullet, tearing through me with unexpected violence. A guttural roar rips from my throat. Squeezing her hair, I hold her in place while my hips buck against her mouth and I empty myself down her throat.
She milks every last drop.
Right before her eyes roll back in her head and she succumbs to her own pleasure with sharp cries.
For long moments, I can do nothing but breathe, my chest heaving as though I’ve run miles. My vision blurs at the edges, my mind wiped clean of everything but her.
She retreats slowly but doesn’t move away.
Instead, her tongue continues to trace my skin, licking me clean with delicate care.
The tenderness of the act affects me more than the orgasm itself. No one has ever treated me with such reverence.
It sparks a need to reciprocate, to give rather than take.
My cock’s already stirring again, hardening under her attentive tongue.
Excitement flashes across her face. She’s pleased with herself, proud of the effect she has on me. She opens her mouth to take me again, eager but unsure, waiting for permission or direction.
The strangest instinct seizes me. Not the usual urge to distance myself, which usually occurs following release.
Instead, foreign kindness surges in my chest. I need to claim her in a different way, to witness her fall apart beneath my touch. To memorize her expression and cries as she comes on my dick.
I lift her to her feet and tug her onto the couch beside me, arranging her against the cushions.
Her body is boneless in the aftermath, her skin flushed pink from her cheeks to her chest, her nipples erect and begging for attention.
I resist the urge to suck one in my mouth, to taste her everywhere.
Later. Right now, I need to witness her unravel.
I slide down between her legs, settling my hips against her inner thighs. The scent of her heady, intoxicating arousal cocoons me. She’s dripping wet, swollen, and pink.
“Kolya.” Her voice quivers with desire and uncertainty as I use my fingers to part her. “You don’t have to—”
“I need to taste you.” I lightly pinch her slick clit, and my fingers slide right off.
She gasps, her hips arching off the couch in a sudden, convulsive jerk. With her eyes squeezed shut and her bottom lip trapped between her teeth, she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Raw, honest, and completely abandoned to sensation.
I begin to move up her body, my fingers still working her, my mouth never leaving her skin as I press kisses up her stomach, between her breasts, toward her throat.
My lips graze her collarbone, eliciting a soft moan. This woman is too fucking perfect. I could—
A crack splits the air.
The lamp beside the couch explodes, spraying shrapnel and porcelain across the wall right where my head was mere seconds ago.
I roll off the couch, shielding her naked body with mine as I carry her with me to the floor. Glass crunches beneath us when we hit the hardwood, my arm cushioning her head from the impact.
Someone just tried to put a bullet through my skull.
And they nearly succeeded.