Ava
Long, long ago, before my father decided that I was nothing more than a commodity and before my husband’s large hands traced the outline of my breast, Cara and I had attended a party in one of the frat houses at another University.
I don’t recall much of the details but I do remember that not long after we arrived, both Cara and I found ourselves in a circle full of giggling female University students talking about their best and worst sexual experiences. The conversation danced along the line of explicit and I soon found myself fidgeting with my hands and Itching to leave.
Luckily, I was able to slip out undetected, right as a girl named Everdeen stepped into the centre of the circle and began narrating her horrendous first-time experience with her high school boyfriend and spent the rest of my evening outside.
Unluckily, her story would’ve come in handy right about now. Because if I had stayed, I probably would’ve gathered enough information on what exactly one was supposed to do during their first time.
Nikolai’s lips skim across my skin, pushing me deeper into the mattress as he trails a torturous path down my body. My body is on fire, his lips burning a trail each place they touched.
And when he dips lower, I bite on my bottom lip and twist my hands. The sensation of his warm breath fanning my skin feels electrifying and while my fingers itched to touch him, my movements were restricted by his hand pinning my wrist above my head.
“YA khochu snova poprobovat’ tebya na vkus, tak chertovski mnogo solntsa.” He murmurs, lips pressed against my skin and my heart does a summersault in my chest. “YA khochu videt’, kak ty raspadayesh’sya pod moim yazykom.”
I have no idea what he’s saying but my body reacts differently.
He peers up at me from between my legs, gaze searching mine and I feel a warm tinge dust my cheeks at the intensity. “Will you let me?”
The position we were in was far too intimate. He could see every part of me and when he adjusted his body between my legs, I widened my thighs on instinct to accommodate his size.
“Let you what?” My voice comes out breathless, unrecognisable.
“Taste you.” He kisses my inner thigh. “Worship you.”
It’s like magic the way my body responds to him. The delicious weight of his body pressed against mine is maddening, and the slowness with which he moves his hand from my breast to my stomach makes my chest tighten, and my breath catch in my throat.
Nikolai groans, low and guttural deep in his throat, like the sound is dragged straight from his soul. His grip on my wrists tightens just a bit, enough to remind me that I’m still at his mercy. And maybe I like the reminder a little too much.
“Answer me Solnyshko.” He murmurs, “I need your words if this is what you want or I stop.”
Stop?
I twist my body, pushing my breast out into the air.
“Don’t… Please.”
“Then answer me. Will you let me taste you again?”
I nod frantically, “Yes, God yes.”
He uses his free hand to throw my leg over his shoulder, and then, with a masculine sound rumbling his shoulders, he feasts. Unlike earlier when he’d taken his time to explore me, this time feels more urgent. Like he’s starved and I’m the only thing that can satisfy his hunger. His tongue moves with precision and purpose, each stroke pulling an unholy sound from my throat.
My back arches off the bed, a whimper clawing its way up as his mouth works me over with ruthless devotion.
I can’t think.
I can’t breathe.
All I can do is feel. Feel him. Feel us.
His hold on my wrist loosens and he slides a rough palm down my body, pulling down the cup of my bra so that he can squeeze the weight of my breast. His thumb brushes over my nipple and I cry out, the pleasure so intense it borders on pain.
My thighs tighten around his head on instinct, nails digging into his palm but he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t even falter. If anything, it spurs him on. His groan vibrates against my thigh as the rough stubble of his jaw scrapes the sensitive skin there, and when I feel one of his fingers graze my entrance, my hips nearly buck off the bed.
Oh God.
That feels so good.
I wiggle my hips against his face, trying to get closer but he stops me with a light squeeze on my thigh. I yelp.
“Vesti sebya”, And then, in English, he repeats, “Behave” He places a kiss on my pussy and sinks another finger inside me.
My head falls back against the pillow, neck arched as pleasure rushes through me like a live wire. His fingers move slowly at first, deliberately and then he curls them at just the right angle, inevitably finding that spot that makes my toes curl and my vision blur. I moan, loud and unfiltered, my walls clenching around him.
“Nikolai,” I whimper, not sure if I’m begging for more or mercy. Maybe both.
My hands fly to his hair, and I grab a handful of his strands, tugging hard as I desperately try to hold on to something. White light explodes behind my eyelids and my pulse thrums between my legs as he works me in ways I didn’t know possible.
My body starts to give way for my orgasm but just as my pleasure starts to uncoil, he stops.
The bastard.
My eyes snap open, wild, panicked.
What was he doing?
A sob rips from my lungs when he withdraws his fingers, leaving me open and dripping for him.
I’m about to ask him why he stopped, but the words never make it past my lips before his mouth is on mine again, and he’s kissing me like his life depends on it. My entire body goes aflame with pain and need and with an intensity that makes me question everything. His lips are warm and demanding against mine and I can taste myself on his tongue. It tastes like sin and surrender and everything I’m not supposed to feel for this man but do.
His fists in my hair, tilting my head just the way he wants, deepening the kiss until I can barely breathe.
“Nikolai,” I gasp into his mouth, broken, needy. “Please…”
His forehead presses to mine, his breath ragged, chest heaving against mine. “You beg so sweetly, solnyshko,” he whispers, the Russian pet name drips from his lips like honey, softening the sting of his denial. “But you’ll come when I say. Not a second before.”
Unlike me whose clothes were laid in a pile on the bedroom floor, my husband was still fully clothed. And it was starting to annoy the heck out of me.
He’d been so eager to strip me out of my clothing once the bedroom door was closed that I hardly had the time to comprehend that he was still fully dressed.
Deciding to even out the playing field, I reached down between us, my fingers twiddling with the remaining buttons of his shirt, which were doing the unwanted job of keeping the fabric together while I struggled to take it apart. “Take it off,” I beg, my voice trembling from equal parts desperation and anticipation when I stumbled over the same button twice.
The corner of his lips quirks up slightly, and he leans back just enough to give me room to unbutton the rest of his shirt. My fingers tremble with each button that comes undone and when I finally undo the last and shove the shirt off his body, I suck in a deep breath.
God, he’s beautiful. Every part of him. All sharp lines and sculpted muscle, a canvas of scars and tattoos that whisper stories both told and untold. My fingers glide over his chest and then lower, aching to learn everything there is to know about him by touch alone. I trace one of the longer scars that cut across his ribs and wonder why his father had done this to him. Hurt him like this.
But the thought soon dispels when he captures my lips again.
My hands fly to his face, thumbs brushing along the faint stubble on his jaw as I kiss him back with the same fiery passion he claims my lips with.
I rock my hips, seeking friction, needing more of him.
A low growl rumbles in his throat, the sound vibrating against my chest as his hands slide down to grip my hips, anchoring me to him. His control is slipping and I feel it in the way his kiss changes into something hungrier, rougher. Our tongues tangle, breath growing shallow, and when I grind down again, he squeezes my hip.
“Fuck,” he hisses, pulling back just enough to look at me. His eyes are dark, hooded, burning with a heat that makes my entire body flush with need.”I want to fuck you so badly,” He says, and a shiver rolls down my spine, eliciting goosebumps across my skin.
“What’s stopping you?” My words are bold and daring for someone who has never seen more than one male genitalia in her life, but right now, I don’t care about my inexperience. I want him in every way that I can get him, starting from feeling him inside me.
He lets out an amused chuckle and the sound goes straight to my core.
“You wouldn’t be able to handle what the entirety is what I want to do to you. At least not the first time.” He tells me, lowering his lips to my collarbone and nipping lightly.
For some reason, my horny-ass takes that as a challenge, and my fingers sink into his hair, pulling him away from my sensitive skin so that he can look me in the eye as I say.
“Try me.”