Torrid (Sordid 2)

If I could speak, my answer would have been no. No, I didn’t like his ‘flavor.’ It was salty and weirdly numbing, and saliva rushed to pool in my mouth to counteract it. The urge to swallow was immediate. I waited impatiently for him to tell me I could.

He grabbed the hem of his shirt and stretched it up over his head, casting it aside. The need to swallow now was shockingly urgent. His bare, toned chest made me hate him all over again. Why the hell did he have to be so good looking? And worse, why did he have to know it? I wasn’t sure what kind of expression I had on my face, but it earned a smug, arrogant look from him.

Muscles curved under smooth skin, and my gaze wandered over his appealing and dangerous form. He was powerful in every sense of the word.

Vasilije tugged at my hair tie. “Down.” He wanted my hair loose? I yanked the knot free, and then he flung a finger to the bed. “Get on your back.”

My heart seized in my chest. I’d foolishly thought since he’d come that I was off the hook, but apparently sex was still in his plans. I should have been grateful. I was doing a terrible job of seducing him, but it was working anyway. I climbed onto my feet. Would he notice if I swallowed? Could I fake it that I hadn’t? I had no idea what he’d do if I disobeyed, making it too risky. I fought the urge to choke and gag.

I’d only put one knee on the bed before his hands were there, shoving me down and pushing me to roll onto my back. A panicked hum came out, but I kept my lips glued together. I was right at the edge of the mattress, my feet flat on the floor, as he stepped between my knees and dropped down.

I lifted my head and stared at him over my nakedness. He wasn’t looking at my eyes for once. His gaze was focused between my legs, and the cold pads of his fingers eased my thighs further apart. Oh my God. My heart beat loud in my ears, drumming out sound.

His black eyes peered up at me, and his smile was nasty. “When you start to come,” his hot breath washed over my trembling skin, “then you can swallow.”

I moaned my anxiety through pressed lips, and struggled to take in air through my nose. I was breathing so hard, I grew dizzy and my head weighed a million pounds. Vasilije Markovic was right there. He stared at my pussy like I was a decadent dessert he couldn’t wait to eat.

The world slowed as he lowered his lips to me, and then time raced forward from a slingshot as his wet, soft tongue brushed against my skin. It was impossible to keep quiet, or stop my body from recoiling from the sudden sensation. My brain splintered under the stress of it. Did I like what he’d just done?

He did it again, and I jerked. It felt . . . nice.

Everything was buzzing as his strong hands smoothed up my thighs and he used his thumbs to peel me open to his invasive mouth. I clamped my hands down on the sheets beneath them, and bucked against the heat of each stroke he delivered. The sensation was intense, and erotic, and distracted me from the liquid I held in my mouth that I’d been desperate to swallow down seconds ago.

“Mmmm,” he murmured. “You taste sweet.”

I groaned and threw my arm up over my face, shielding my eyes from him. He settled in, and his tongue fluttered over my clit, drawing moan after reluctant moan from me. It felt good. What he was doing to me felt really, really good.

It was getting hard to breathe. I writhed on the mattress, sweating and flinching with contractions of pleasure as his mouth sucked on me. I’d spent the last month wondering if I could get Vasilije Markovic to want to fuck me. It’d seemed ridiculous, the idea he’d have any interest in me.

It seemed less ridiculous now.

His tongue dipped inside my body, spreading more wetness around. My arousal, really. Because what he was doing turned me on, and if I was honest with myself . . . maybe his complete control had, too. In my father’s house, I’d played the role of obedient daughter for the last five years. I’d been trained to respond to strong men, which hadn’t helped with the Ilia situation.

I arched up, biting on the insides of my cheeks, forcing myself to keep my mouth shut. His cum was thick around my teeth, serving as a muzzle. A gag.

He was doing something else now, and I had no choice but to lift my heavy head and peer down. He was alternating between his tongue and two fingers swiping furiously over the nub of flesh at the center of my legs. I was beyond conflicted. Letting him bring me to orgasm was a terrible idea. It’d give him more control, and he already had way too much. But if I came, I could swallow and regain the ability to speak. He’d reward me with both pleasure and freedom.