Once I did, I heard a slosh of water. Then the ladle hitting the edge of the bucket?
Water streamed onto my chest. It was just shy of too-hot as my br**sts channeled it straight down to my pu**y.
I could feel the stream rushing over my clit. Could feel that sultry trickle directly over my opening. An intimate, liquid caress. I moaned, holding my arched position with difficulty.
Another stream danced over my throat. Like a collar.
I started to perspire. So hot—
“Ahh!” Freezing water licked across my br**sts. He’d gone from steaming to ice cold. I struggled to keep my back bowed as he doused another cold line from one of my ni**les to the other.
He poured more down my spread inner thighs. Goose bumps. Perspiration. Shivers. Panting. My body didn’t know how to react.
Then cold directly between my legs.
“Sevastyan!” I futilely wriggled.
“Back flat. Open your mouth.”
I was shuddering as I blindly obeyed. Cold water hit my tongue. I swallowed quickly, hadn’t realized how thirsty I was.
“More?”
I’d never had such delicious water. “Uh-huh.”
The stream returned, along with the tip of his finger, tracing my lips. I sucked the finger, drinking from it before he pulled it away.
Then nothing but sounds. The fire crackling. My panting breaths, his harsh ones. Moments passed. . . .
Against my lips, I felt the head of his cock. He was rimming my mouth as water trickled down his length. The visual of Sevastyan, funneling water along his shaft to my waiting mouth . . . Oh, God, oh, God.
I stretched my head up to suckle him, but he kept that luscious crown from my tongue. I strained to free my wrists, needing to drink him dry . . . yet he tormented me, daubing the head to my lips, then drawing it away.
Another grazing contact, more cool water. The world began to fade away until only Sevastyan existed.
Then absence. No contact. I was about to cry out when his finger returned. I sucked it hard, swirling my tongue, letting him know what I’d do with his cock. He must’ve gotten the message; a growl broke from his chest.
When he withdrew his finger, I gasped, “Why are you teasing me like this?”
“My greedy girl wants more?”
“You know I do!”
Pressure against my lips. His own?
Sevastyan was kissing me with light laps of his tongue against my seeking one. I moaned into his mouth, but he kept the pace slow, languid, laying his hand over the side of my face. He broke from the kiss to brush feather-light grazes of his lips over my cheek, my chin, along my jawline, then back to my waiting mouth, to take my tongue with his.
The most tender, romantic kiss I’d ever received.
As if he cherished me.
He’d tied me up to use my body, then given me a lover’s kiss.
Maddening man! As his lips and tongue leisurely claimed my own, I thrashed against my bonds, desperate to grasp his head, to bury my fingers in his hair so I could hold his mouth to mine.
I feared I’d lose my mind before the afternoon was through. And quite possibly my virginity. Did I trust what he’d said, about not f**king me until I begged? Yes. But did I trust my promise to myself not to beg?
Perhaps I wasn’t strong enough to resist him.