Octavia
I don’t look away, and I don’t know what comes over me. I only know that I lift onto my toes, close the distance, and crush my mouth to his.
He doesn’t move at first, caught off guard. Then his lips part, and his tongue slips into my mouth, slow at first, then surer, circling mine until the kiss deepens, and becomes more demanding, unmistakably us.
My hand tangles in his hair, my fingers tighten as I pull him closer. He groans into my mouth, while his hands slide over my body.
“What do you think you’re doing, gorgeous?” he murmurs against my lips.
“I don’t know,” I whisper back, before kissing him again.
“I don’t know,” I repeat, my voice wavering as a tear slips free. “But I want this.”
He pulls back abruptly, his forehead pulling away as he looks at me with an intensity that makes my breath hitch.
“Are you sure?” He searches my eyes, and I nod.
“I need words,” he says tightly.
“Yes,” I say firmly, because fucked up or not, I want this.
I need it.
His mouth crashes back onto mine, fierce and claiming.
“Tell me what you need,” he murmurs between kisses, lifting me without effort as I wrap my legs around his waist.
He carries me across the room and sets me down on the bed with such care, like I’m something precious, not as tainted as I know I am. I slam that thought shut before it can ruin this for me.
Once in my life. Let me be.
“You,” I whisper.
His mouth finds my neck, his kisses slow, his lips lingering there before he brushes my ear and murmurs, “Is this okay?”
“Yes,” I shudder.
“Tell me if you want me to stop.” He pulls back, to look at me properly.
“Stop talking so much,” I murmur, breathless. “And kiss me.”
His lips tilt, satisfied, before he captures mine again. He kisses down my throat, then grips my dress and pulls. The tearing sound that cuts through the quiet room tells me he has ripped it straight from my body.
I am left in nothing but my bra and thong, my breath catching at the abruptness of it, goosebumps breaking out across my skin.
“God, I hate falling asleep in my bra,” I grumble.
“Allow me to fix that,” he says smoothly. “Not that you’ll be falling asleep any time soon.”
One hand slips behind me, his fingers find the clasp and release it before he tosses the bra aside. My breasts spill free, and a low sound leaves him as he watches, openly transfixed.
“Fuck,” he mutters. “These tits.”
He leans down and takes one nipple into his mouth, his tongue flicking while his other hand cups and squeezes the other. He groans.
A moan escapes me before I can stop it. The sensation is overwhelming, unlike anything I have felt before, and I have to clench my thighs together just to ground myself.
I am already too close.
He releases me and looks up.
“I need to taste you,” he rumbles. “Tell me I can taste you.”
I nod in response.
He shakes his head, a low growl leaving him. “Words, Octavia.”
“Yes. Please.”
His mouth twists darkly. “I like it when you beg.”
I narrow my eyes. “I don’t know who begged first.”
He shrugs, unconcerned, and in the next instant he tears my panties away.
I lie on the bed, sprawled beneath his eyes, and reach for him, my hands sliding over his chest and along his abs, feeling the muscles flex beneath my touch, tracing the tattoos inked across his skin.
“Fuck,” he mutters. “Your touch is maddening.”
He pulls me toward him with force, spreading my legs.
“You sure?” he asks.
“Yes,” I pant.
He closes the distance, his mouth settling at my centre, his lips sealing around my clit as he sucks.
“I could get lost in you for days,” he murmurs between licks.
His tongue teases and works at me until my breath goes ragged. My hands dive into his hair, holding him exactly where I want him.
“Damn it,” I whisper.
He runs his fingers through my slickness. “Let me know if it’s too much,” he says, never slowing his mouth.
“No… keep going,” I pant. “I need more.”
Two fingers slide inside me as his mouth doesn’t relent.
“Fuck,” he mutters. “So tight. How the fuck are you so damn tight.”
My body tightens around him, the sensation overwhelming. I let go of his hair, my fingers moving to my nipples as I pinch them hard. He works me relentlessly, pumping his fingers in and out while his mouth never stops, not easing for a moment, and I know he feels how close I am.
“Come for me, gorgeous,” he murmurs. “Now.”
The release hits me hard and I cry out, unable to hold it back. He doesn’t slow, lapping at me through it.
When I finally come back to myself, I manage to lift my head and look at him.
He looks up from between my thighs, his lips wet with my release, his eyes dark with satisfaction and possession.
“I’m not done with you,” he says.
“I’d be disappointed if you were,” I reply.
I stay exactly where I am, refusing to allow the spectre of my past to intrude and spoil it.
For once, I don’t flinch or retreat.
It is time I take some measure of control back over my own life.
Long overdue.
He pulls me on top of him and I straddle his lap, my bare pussy pressed against his hard cock beneath his boxers.
“I want you to sit on my face.”
I laugh. “You won’t be able to breathe.”
“Exactly,” he says, winking.
I do just that.
He doesn’t stop.
Five orgasms later, I am empty, shaking, and completely spent.