Chapter 20
NATALIA
After tasting Leks, I feel incapable of thinking about anything else.
I don’t understand how people are just walking around having sex casually without it consuming their every thought.
All I want is more. The greediest sensors in my brain pulse whenever I think about Leks, whenever I smell him, whenever something reminds me of him.
It’s been two fucking days and I haven’t seen him.
“What’s that look for?”
He walks towards the place where I’m sitting on the couch, his lip quirking into a smile.
I’m probably glaring. It’s the first time I’ve seen him since that night.
I’m angry at him. Because all I’ve been able to think about is what it was like to taste his cock, the satisfied groan he gave, the addictive taste of him. This can’t be how everyone exists all the time, unable to think about anything else except the next time they can have someone’s hands on them.
I fold my arms over my chest. I’m only wearing one of his t-shirts over my panties. It hangs so low on my thighs that it’s like a dress.
I think the fact that it smells like him is only making my predicament worse, but I can’t resist.
“You said I shouldn’t touch myself.”
He nods his silent agreement, his gaze meeting mine. His eyebrows raise as he realizes what I’m saying.
That it’s been hard not to.
“That’s a problem? After going without for 21 years?” His lips quirk into a teasing smile.
“Yes.”
He shakes his head at me, and I wonder if I’ve said something wrong, but he comes to stand in front of me.
“Nice t-shirt,” he comments dryly. I narrow my eyes at him.
I still don’t know what this is, whether I can expect Leks to give me what my body is aching for. His hand cups my chin, his grip warm and firm as he tilts my face up so I can’t escape his gaze.
“Use your words, princess. What do you want from me?”
“I want you to touch me.” The phrase comes out as a shame-laced whisper.
I shouldn’t want this, not from Leks, but it’s become a need.
He leans forward and captures my lips with his. The sensation makes my head spin, the way his lips turn hungry on mine, sucking at my mouth like he’s trying to eat me alive.
I melt at the sensation, the need in my belly growing to a roar. When I whimper my need against his lips, he pulls back with a breath that sounds more like a growl of satisfaction, his teeth grazing my lower lip.
“There’s no taking this back, Natalia. You want my help?”
I nod. Not just want. If he doesn’t touch me, I feel like I might explode.
“Then I’ll help. But you have to tell me why.”
He places those rough, calloused hands on my knees and pushes them apart, sending a thrill of heat up my spine.
I’m powerless to resist. Nothing but pure need is beating through my veins right now.
Every rational thought leaves my mind as his hands slowly inch higher on my legs.
“Why?” I repeat back to him, not understanding the question.
“Why do you need this?”
He wants an admission.
I catch a playful glint in his eyes as he says it, like he already knows the answer but wants to torture me by making me say it.
I exhale softly. I shouldn’t want more of this, but I do.
“Because I couldn’t stop thinking about the other night,” I confess.
Leks murmurs his approval as he slides the hem of the shirt up my thighs.
“The other night?” He raises an eyebrow, his voice low and ragged as his hands skim over my skin.
“When I took you in my mouth.”
“Mmm. I think I remember that,” he teases. “When you got on your knees like such a good fucking girl for me and took my cum down that sweet little throat.”
God. I didn’t even think I’d done a good job, but the way that Leks is looking at me right now makes me think he wants a repeat.
My clit flutters as his hands hit the side of my panties. He hooks his thumb under the side and pulls the cotton away from my skin. Leks’s gaze flicks up to my face to gauge my reaction. I nod at him, arching my head back in anticipation.
But he doesn’t slide my panties off yet.
Instead, he tugs at the hem of the t-shirt until I lift my arms over my head. He tosses the bundle of cotton aside. I let him strip me, my nipples hardening in the cool air.
His hands trace their way down to cup the weight of my breasts and my nipples tighten with need. I arch into his palm as he tweaks my nipples into aching peaks. Then he brings his mouth to each of my breasts in turn, his tongue caressing my peaks with gentle, seductive flicks.
I gasp against him, gripping his shoulders, when he pulls back.
I had no idea my breasts could feel like that. Needy and hot and tight, like they’re connected to the arousal building between my legs.
“So fucking beautiful, Natalia,” he tells me as I shudder in suppressed pleasure.
His eyes rake over my naked breasts like he’s waited a long time to see this.
I don’t care what he wants to see. That’s not what this is about. I grab his dark hair in my fists and drag his face towards the cotton of my panties.
He knows what I need. He’s just being an asshole.
“Oh, is your pussy feeling left out of things?”
Before I can answer him in the affirmative, Leks has lifted my legs over his shoulders.
The movement tilts my whole body backwards. He pushes my ass further back on the couch and presses his face between my legs, inhaling deeply.
“Your smell is like fucking crack, zolotse. If crack smelled like roses and sugar.”
I can feel the heat of his breath through my panties. He traces through the fabric with his tongue, the wet heat trailing right down my center.
“I was serious before, Natalia. If you want me to taste this sweet little pussy, I will, but I’m never going to stop. There’s no going back.”
His midnight blue eyes are deadly serious on mine.
I nod my assent, because I need his mouth on my pussy like I’ve never needed anything before.
This is still not technically consummating our marriage, so I refuse to think too hard about it. If I can have his cock in my mouth, he can taste me too.
Leks rips my panties off and lets out a breath.
His eyes darken as he stares between my legs. I swear his pupils turn so dark and huge they consume his entire iris. There’s no dark blue anymore, only needy, hungry blackness.
“Zolotse,” he says in a rasping breath that is so filthy I know it’s all I will dream about tonight.
Then his tongue is on me and I lose the capacity for rational thought.
It’s not just good, it’s like my mind is turning into liquid and melting down my spine.
I don’t think I’m really present in my body anymore, except the heartbeat I can feel in my most sensitive places and the gasps that unwillingly emanate from my lungs and throat.
Nothing matters except his tongue and his hands.
Flicks, sucks, licks, groans that somehow reverberate right through my spine.
I’m arching my back against the couch, grinding myself closer to his mouth.
He’s pinning me down with one hand on my spasming abdomen as an orgasm hits.
The sensation is an aching stretch that makes my whole body lift towards him.
His tongue is entering me, hot and wet and irresistible, flicking against a spot that makes me see stars.
He’s pulling back with an expression of humor on his face as I let out a stream of curse words I shouldn’t know in Russian and English.
I don’t have time or mental presence to count how many times he sends me over the edge. All I know is his mouth is on me for so long that I wonder how I ever existed before it.
I’m feeling drained and limp, but somehow Leks isn’t done, his tongue lapping at my juices.
“Remember the safe word?” He checks, as his tongue on my clit feels like an electric shock. My hips buck with every single touch.
I do remember the safe word.
I just don’t want to use it.
Because every jolt of pleasure he extracts from me is intoxicating and addictive.
And when his tongue makes me feel like this, when his mouth and his stubble are running all over my most sensitive flesh, it’s impossible to think about anything else.
Impossible to feel guilt about the way that I’ve been working against him for the past month.
Because whoever Leks is, whatever he may have done, I’m increasingly doubting my father’s story that he was the reason for my brothers’ deaths.
Or maybe I’m just not willing to believe that I could experience this much pure, addictive pleasure at the hands of a monster.