my dick to twitch.
I watched her in fascination as she blinked in the room and the mattress we were sitting on. Licking her lips, she faced me and, without meeting my gaze, said. “We are on a real bed.”
My hand was still in her hair. As she spoke, my hand trailed down over her neck, then down over her shoulder. Once I’d reached the end of her arm, my eyes were drawn to her hard nipples. Gripping on tightly to her waist, I dragged her slight body farther up my torso, until her hard buds were in front of my mouth. My hips rolled, my balls aching, as I leaned forward and flicked the tip of my tongue over the red flesh. The female’s breath hitched and then became heavy. The flesh around the nipple bumped and hardened. On a low groan, I wrapped my mouth around the mound and lapped at the nipple.
She froze, and when I looked up she winced. Releasing her tit from my mouth, I reared back and studied her body. Seeing me watching her, the female bowed her head and whispered, “I am aching. My body feels … strange.”
This breathy timid admission saw my heart swell in my chest. She was hurting. I knew from personal experience what the body felt like after being tied up for hours at a time.
Without noticing, my hands had lifted to her arms and begun massaging the aching muscles. When she released a pained moan, my attention snapped to what I was doing and I pulled back my hands. Anger swept through me. I was meant to be torturing her, making her reveal what she knew about Zaal Kostava. Instead I was trying to make her feel good.
My arms had locked at my sides as I fought to calm down when a shaking hand landed on my cheek. Every part of me stilled, and when I looked up it was the little Georgian’s hand. Her eyes were shining, her lips were trembling, but she didn’t say anything.
The way she was looking at me, the closeness of her body, unnerved me. No one but Mistress had ever gotten this close. I had seen no one but Mistress and the Gvardii since I was captured at the age of twelve. Mistress told me I was thirty now. I had seen no one but Mistress and the Gvardii for eighteen years.
The female sat on my lap, her legs wrapped around me. Her naked beautiful unmarked skin pressed up against mine felt better than anything I’d touched in my life before.
But her hand on my cheek was fucking with my mind. Her touch, her soft touch on my face, was bringing me to my knees.
Her throat moved as she swallowed. I waited. I waited, holding my breath, for her to speak. With another lick of her lips, she finally said, “That felt good.”
My stomach flipped, shots of fire traveling down my legs. Unclenching a hand by my side, I brought it forward to land on her free arm. The fingers on my face clasped my skin harder as my fingers wrapped around her biceps and began massaging the skin. The female groaned deeply. Her eyes rolled back in her head. Her lips parted and I watched as an expression of relief spread across her face. At the noises slipping from her mouth, I worked harder on her muscles. Her small body bowed forward, and as it did her hand stroked forward, until it clasped the back of my head. Taking my other hand, I placed it on her other arm and worked that muscle, too. The female’s eyes fluttered shut. As more noises slipped from her mouth, my hips began to roll, the feel of her hot pussy growing wetter by the second pressing on my skin. My cock began to throb.
“That feels so good,” she murmured.
I squeezed my eyes shut briefly, fighting back the pressure building in my balls. Her fingers dug into my head. As another groan left her mouth, I gripped her arms and turned her round. The female stiffened in fear, but I planted her over my dick, my hard flesh slipping between the crack of her ass, sliding forward to be coated with her wetness.
I wrapped my arm around her waist, pulling her back against my chest. Once her body relaxed, I kicked her legs open, my legs bending, caging them on either side. I paused at the feel of my body pressed against hers; she stilled, breathing