26. Kai #2
And fuck me if watching her instantly drop to her knees, thighs trembling slightly as she crawls to me in the dark, doesn’t hit me like a drug.
She shouldn’t obey this easily. She shouldn’t look so fucking perfect doing it.
But she does. She comes across the hardwood on her hands and knees, lace stretching over her ass with every movement, hair falling forward around her face, and she never once looks away from the mask.
The floor is cool. I can see it in the way her palms press down, in the small shiver that runs through her shoulders.
She crawls the way I asked her to in that first filthy fantasy I should never have written down, except this time it is real and she is choosing it and my dick is already hard enough to ache behind my jeans.
She stops between my spread knees, close enough that I could drag her the rest of the way by the hair if I wanted to.
I make her wait instead. Her breathing is already faster.
So is mine. The part of me that spent years building control out of necessity recognizes exactly how thin it feels tonight, and it only makes me want her more.
I reach down and brush my thumb over her lower lip.
She parts it almost automatically. I let the pad of my thumb drag slowly across that soft, wet line, then press inside her mouth.
“Such a good girl for me, open your mouth,” I murmur, keeping my voice low and commanding, my thumb tracing her bottom lip before I slide it in. “Suck.”
She does. Her lips close around my thumb and she sucks, slow at first, then harder, her tongue curling against the pad like she already knows what I am going to put there next.
Heat slams through me so fast I have to lock my jaw behind the mask.
I watch her cheeks hollow. I watch her eyes stay on mine.
I watch saliva gather at the corner of her mouth and I do not pull my thumb free until I am sure she understands the instruction.
“You don’t need to be saved,” I tell her, still holding her chin, still feeling the wet heat of her mouth on my skin. “You need to be seen — every broken, filthy, desperate piece of you.”
Her breath stutters around my thumb. I slide it free and drag the wetness over her lower lip again.
“This,” I murmur, letting my knuckles skim the edge of the lace at her shoulder, “was a very good choice.”
Julia’s mouth twitches.
“I thought so.” The quiet confidence in the answer makes something possessive tighten beneath my ribs.
I undo my belt. The sound is loud in the dark room.
Her eyes drop to my hands, then lift again when I pop the button and drag the zipper down just far enough to free my dick.
I wrap my bare hand around myself and stroke once, slow, letting her see what she has done to me before I have even put my mouth on her.
“Come here.”
She rises higher on her knees and leans in.
I gather her hair in one fist, not pulling, just holding it out of the way so I can watch.
“Open.”
She opens. The first wet heat of her mouth around the head of my dick nearly takes the air out of my lungs.
I keep the sound low, keep the voice ruined on purpose, but there is nothing professional left in the way my hips want to push forward.
She takes me deeper, tongue flat along the underside, and I feel every inch of that careful, filthy attention all the way down my spine.
“That’s it,” I rasp. “Just like that.”
She moans around me and the vibration punches a curse out of my throat.
I guide her with the hand in her hair, showing her the pace I want, not forcing her farther than she can take.
When she gags softly I ease her back, thumb stroking her cheek, then let her come down again.
Saliva shines on her lips. The lace between her thighs is visibly darker now.
I can smell how wet she is from here. I pull her off me before I lose the last of my patience.
A thin string of spit follows her mouth.
She looks wrecked already and I have barely started.
“On the bed.”
She climbs up. I follow only far enough to hook my fingers in the sides of the thong and drag it down her legs, slow enough that the lace scrapes over her thighs and she has to lift her hips to help me.
I leave the bra on. I want that lace still framing her while I put my mouth on her pussy.
I spread her thighs with both hands. She is soaked.
Flushed. Swollen. Shining in the little light from the stairs.
I lower my head and drag the balaclava just one my mouth before my tongue laps through her in one long, unhurried stroke, from her entrance up over her clit, and her whole body jerks against the mattress.
I do it again, slower, tasting her properly this time, then seal my mouth over that small, aching point and suck.
“Ghost—” The name is broken. Good.
I slide two fingers into her while I eat her, curling them the way I did in the fitting room, the way I did the first night she opened her door.
She is tighter around my fingers than she was then, or maybe I am just greedier for it now.
I fuck her with my hand and work her clit with my tongue until her thighs start shaking against my shoulders and she is making those small, desperate sounds she tries to swallow.
“Let me hear you.” She does.