7. Renat #2
“You know what I see when I look at you?” I ask, sliding one hand around to cup her ass, dragging her hips against mine. “I see that tight little body soaked through and begging to be worshiped. You don’t even know what it’s doing to me.”
She exhales, soft and uneven, her hands twitching at her sides.
I pop the button on her jeans. She stiffens, but her eyes stay on mine. I drag the zipper down slowly, knuckles brushing her skin.
“I’m gonna take these off you,” I tell her, voice gravel-thick, “and then I’m gonna spread those pretty thighs and bury my tongue in that perfect pussy until you can’t remember your own name.”
She sways toward me.
“I’ll have you riding my face first, Mira,” I whisper, “then bent over this bed while I fuck you deep—so deep you’ll still feel me inside you tomorrow.”
She makes a soft, helpless noise in the back of her throat. I hook my fingers in the waistband of her jeans and start to pull.
“You want that?” I ask, kissing the corner of her mouth. “Want me to ruin you a little?”
Her nod is barely there, but I see it.
“That’s my girl.”
I kneel, peeling her jeans down her legs. She steps out of them slowly, the heat between her thighs slick and visible now, her body already trembling. I kiss her inner thigh, then higher, lips barely grazing the edge of where she needs me most.
“You’re already soaked for me,” I groan. “You gonna be a good girl and let me taste you?”
She nods again, whisper-soft. “Please.”
I grip her thighs and push her down on the edge of the bed, spreading her open for me.
“Lie back.”
She obeys, her breath catching as her spine hits the mattress. Her braids spill around her, cheeks flushed, nipples tight, legs falling apart the second I lean in.
“Keep those legs open,” I murmur, dragging my tongue up the length of her slit. “That’s it. Let me taste how bad you want it.”
She gasps, hips jolting. I groan into her, mouth locking over her clit. She’s already soaked, already trembling. I flatten my tongue and lap at her like a man starved, slow at first, then faster—just enough pressure to make her legs quake around my shoulders.
“Oh my God—Renat?—”
“That’s it,” I rasp. “Make those pretty little sounds. Let me hear how sweetly you come.”
I suck her clit, flick it with my tongue until she writhes under me, fists gripping the sheets. Her thighs try to close, but I hold her wide, eating her like I own her.
She shudders, then cries out, her whole body tightening.
“Fuck, fuck?—”
Her orgasm hits hard, thighs shaking, pussy clenching. I don’t stop. I keep licking her through it, groaning at the taste of her, the heat, the way she falls apart under my mouth.
When she finally goes limp, I drag myself up her body, kissing her flushed skin, her heaving chest, her open mouth. My cock slides against her, thick and slick and throbbing.
“You ready to take it?” I ask, voice wrecked with need.
She nods, dazed. “Yes. God, yes?—”
I line myself up and push inside. Her back arches instantly, hands flying to my shoulders.
“Fucking hell, Mira—tightest cunt I’ve ever felt,” I groan into her neck. “You were made for me.”
She moans loudly, desperately, already close again. I fuck her deep and slow, letting her feel every inch, dragging it out until she’s trembling again.
“You gonna come for me again?” I murmur, lips at her ear. “Gonna let me feel you lose it while I’m buried inside you?”
“Yes! Please.”
I slam into her harder, chasing her cries, chasing that flutter around my cock. She breaks with a sob, pulsing tightly, her nails dragging down my back as she comes again, louder this time.
I follow with a grunt, spilling into her deep, holding her tight, breath ragged against her throat.
When it's over, Mira's hair has come loose from its braid, loose strands scattered across her flushed skin. She won't look at me, won't meet my eyes.
"I have to go," she whispers, already reaching for her clothes.
I watch her dress, see the way her hands shake as she buttons her shirt. When she's decent, she finally looks at me, and I can see the confusion and fear warring in her expression.
"I'm sorry," she says quickly. "That was… I shouldn't have…"
"Don't apologize," I tell her, rising up to pull her against my body. She opens her mouth to argue, but I cut her off.
"Don't apologize for wanting me the same way I want you."
Her cheeks flush deeper, and she looks away. "This can't happen again."
I don't answer. I can't promise her that when every instinct I have is screaming at me to reach for her again. She takes my silence as agreement and hurries toward the door.
"Mira."
She pauses but doesn't turn around.
"I'm not sorry," I say.
She leaves without another word, but I can see the tension in her shoulders, the way she's fighting not to look back. I lie down on the damp mattress and stay there for a long time after she's gone, listening to the storm rage overhead and trying to figure out what the hell I'm doing.
I came here to destroy her world. Instead, I'm letting her destroy mine.