49. Elena #3
I tugged his shirt free and ran my palms up the warm, solid planes of his chest and torso.
Between the two of us we got the rest of his clothes off, jacket, shirt, belt, trousers, until he stood there fully bare and hard, his cock heavy against his stomach.
I took him in hand and drew my palm up slow, one long deliberate pull that made him jump against my fingers.
He groaned low in his chest, hips flexing forward into my grip.
"Your hand on me…" he breathed. "I could come just from this if you kept going."
"Not yet," I whispered. "I want more."
He guided me down onto the edge of the low bench and knelt between my thighs.
Hooking his fingers into the sides of my panties, he drew them down my legs with deliberate care, then eased my knees wider apart.
He paused there, eyes dark with hunger, taking in the sight of me before he moved any closer.
"You're soaked," he said, almost in awe. "And I've barely touched you past your breasts. Do you have any idea what that does to me?"
The first slow stroke of his tongue against my center pulled a sharp, helpless moan straight out of me. He explored patiently, tracing every fold, teasing around my clit without ever settling there, until my whole body arched up off the bench and my hands had tangled into his hair.
"Please," I whispered. "More. I need more."
"Tell me exactly what you need."
"Your mouth on my clit. Your fingers inside me. Don't stop until I come."
A low, pleased sound hummed against me. His mouth settled over my clit, tongue working in slow circles, and a beat later two fingers pressed deep inside me, the combination wringing a startled cry out of my throat.
He kept up a patient, relentless pace after that, tongue and fingers moving in sync, building the ache higher with every pass.
Every sound I made only seemed to drive him on.
"You taste so sweet," he murmured against my pussy. "I don't think I could ever get tired of this."
"Listen to how wet you are for me."
"There you go. Don't muffle it. Louder."
When he finally straightened over me, I was shaking, right on the edge of aching.
He stood between my thighs, the blunt head of him pressing just against my entrance.
He dragged himself slowly through my wetness, teasing both of us with shallow presses that never quite gave either of us what we wanted.
"Eyes on me," he said.
I held his gaze as he sank into me with one long, deliberate roll of his hips, the stretch of him deep and consuming. A shared, ragged sound filled the little room as he seated himself completely and stayed there a moment, letting my body settle around the size of him.
"God, Elena." His forehead dropped to mine. "I don't think I've ever felt anything like this. I don't want it to end."
He started to move, drawing back almost to the edge before sinking deep again, easy and slow at first, each stroke finding a new place inside me that made my breath catch. My legs came up around his waist, matching him thrust for thrust, my nails trailing light lines down the length of his spine.
"Deeper," I gasped. "Don't you dare go easy on me now."
He growled something wordless and adjusted his grip, sliding a hand under my hip to angle me differently.
The very next thrust landed somewhere that scattered every thought I had left.
I gasped, and he stayed right there, deliberate, pressing into that exact angle again and again until my whole body was shaking with it.
"Right there?" His breath had gone ragged. "Is that the spot?"
"Yes. That's exactly it. Don't stop. Please don't stop."
He didn't ease up after that, driving into me deep and relentless, our bodies making a slick, unhurried rhythm that filled the small room.
Every time he filled me completely I made some sound I didn't recognize as my own, and every time I did he'd murmur something rough and adoring against my ear in return.
"You're perfect."
"The way your body opens for me… I can't get enough."
"I love feeling you come around my cock. Give it to me."
Everything in me finally gave, all at once, a release so total I lost track of where my body ended and his began.
I cried his name into the small, close air of the room, and the grip of my body around him was enough to pull him under right after me.
He buried himself one final time, my name breaking against my skin, and I felt him let go completely, every muscle in him gone taut and then loose as he spent himself inside me.
Neither of us hurried to move after, still joined, our breathing the only sound left in the little room.
When he finally withdrew, he pulled me into his lap instead of letting me go, one arm banded around my waist, his other hand tracing idle circles against my hip like he wasn't done touching me yet.
Below us the party went on without needing either of us to run it, and for the first time in a long while, Sergei and I weren't listening for anything but each other.