22. Ruslan #2
The word vibrates through her clit, and she jerks. Her hand presses against the table behind her. The other stays in my hair, not pushing, just holding, as if she doesn’t know whether she wants to keep me there or survive me.
She chokes on my name.
I work her clit with my tongue, slow circles at first, then harder, flatter, until her whole body starts reacting faster than her pride can keep up. Her hips move into my mouth. Her thighs tremble. Every breath she takes sounds like she’s trying not to make a noise and failing.
“Ruslan,” she says again.
I slide one hand under her thigh and hitch it higher over my shoulder. The new angle opens her more, lets me get at her pussy properly, and when I tongue into her while my thumb circles her clit, she nearly folds over on herself.
“Oh my God.”
I smile against her.
That makes her wetter. I can feel it. Taste it. Her pussy is dripping now, slick enough that every movement sounds obscene in the quiet room. I keep my thumb on her clit, rubbing firm little circles while my tongue fucks into her, and her legs start shaking around me.
“You’re going to make me fall,” she says breathlessly.
“Then fall.”
She lets out a laugh that turns into a moan.
The sound goes straight to my cock.
I want to put her on the table and split her open on it.
I want her on her back with her breasts crushed under my hands and my name in her mouth.
I want every filthy thing she’s written me over six years, every late-night confession and every explicit little need she sent into the dark, and I want to give it back to her with interest.
But first I want her shaking on my tongue.
So I keep my mouth on her pussy and make it impossible for her to think.
Her clit is swollen under my tongue now, sensitive enough that every direct flick makes her jump. I ease off just enough to keep her from tipping over the edge too fast, then go back in harder, lapping at her until she grabs my shoulder with her free hand and tries to pull me closer.
“That’s it,” I murmur against her. “Use me.”
Her breath breaks. “I hate you,” she says weakly.
“No, you don’t.”
I suck her clit again, harder this time, and she jerks so violently she nearly knocks the chair over with her heel.
Then I slide two fingers into her pussy.
She cries out.
Hot. Tight. So wet my fingers sink in easily, coated in her almost at once.
I pump them into her slowly at first, feeling the way she grips me, the way her body tries to take more and hold me there at the same time. Then I curl them, searching, and the second I hit the right spot she goes rigid.
“There,” I say.
She shakes her head as if that will save her. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
Her eyes flash down at me. “You know exactly what.”
I do.
That’s why I do it again.
Her pussy clenches around my fingers, and I keep them there, rubbing into that spot while my tongue works her clit in the same relentless rhythm.
Her body starts to lose coordination. One thigh quivers on my shoulder.
Her hand in my hair tightens almost painfully.
Her breath comes faster and faster until it’s not really breathing anymore, just little broken noises she can’t control.
I look up at her again.
She’s wrecked already. Hair falling loose. Blouse twisted. Face flushed all the way down her throat. One breast almost slipping free where she must have tugged at herself earlier.
Beautiful.
Mine, some ugly part of me thinks immediately.
Then my mouth is back on her clit before I can hate myself properly for it.
She’s close now. I can feel it in the way her hips can’t stay still, in the way her pussy keeps fluttering around my fingers, in the way she has stopped pretending this isn’t exactly what she wanted.
“Tell me,” I say.
Her head tips back. “No.”
I give her clit one long, slow lick and curl my fingers deeper inside her.
She nearly sobs. “Fuck.”
“Tell me.”
“I’m close.”
I press my thumb harder against her clit and fuck her with my fingers in short, deep strokes. “Come, then.”
She shakes her head helplessly. “Oh God, please.”
I suck her clit into my mouth and hold it there while my fingers keep moving in her dripping pussy, and that finishes her.
She comes hard. Her whole body locks up. Her pussy clamps down on my fingers. She gasps my name so sharply it almost sounds like a cry, and then she’s shaking over me, one leg slipping against my shoulder, one hand slamming flat against the table to keep herself up.
I keep licking her through it. Enough to make her knees weak and her thighs tremble and her mouth fall open in disbelief at how good it feels.
Only when she starts trying weakly to push at my head do I ease off.
I kiss the inside of her thigh once, then look up. She’s staring down at me like she wants to hit me and pull me back between her legs at the same time.
Her chest rises and falls quickly. A strand of hair sticks to her cheek.
I slide my fingers slowly out of her pussy and watch her shiver.
Then I put those fingers in my mouth.
Her eyes close for one second. When they open again, they’re darker.
“Still want me to stop?” I ask.
She laughs once, breathless and wrecked. “You are so full of yourself.”
“Answer.”
Her gaze drops to my mouth.
Then lower.
The hunger in her face is answer enough, but I wait anyway.
Finally, she says, softly and with no room left for pretending, “No.”