She obeyed him, going slow, her small hands filled with her lush, soft, very white breasts. The sight of her breasts in her palms, her fingers curled around the mounds, sent more fire pounding through his cock. Her nipples were hard little pebbles and his mouth watered, wanted to feast. Still, there were other things he needed more.
"Now my zipper."
She let her breasts go and the material of her gown pushed them closer, deepening the cleavage, her breasts jutting toward him, even more of an enticement. "You look so beautiful," he said, his voice going rough. "Gorgeous. That gown open for me. Your breasts straining toward me. You're hungry, aren't you, malyshka?"
Her fingers fumbled with the zipper, but then she had the trousers parted and she pushed open the slit in his silk underwear so that his heavy cock sprang free.
"Answer me, Giacinta. You're hungry for me, aren't you?" He needed to know he wasn't alone in the fire raging through his body. She looked flushed, her eyes dark with lust, her lips glistening with moisture, making him want to groan and thrust deep.
"So hungry, Casimir," she admitted. "I'm already damp for you. My little lace panties are going to be wet."
He groaned aloud. "You're killing me." He needed his balls free. They were aching and sore, pressed tight against the material. He started to reach down but she was there before him, taking care of her man, freeing him, her fingers drifting over the heavy sac. Her touch sent streaks of fire spearing straight up his groin to his pulsing cock and radiating outward like a burst of fireworks.
He stilled, watching her face. Her blue eyes. Her red lips. That silken red head slowly, inch by inch bent toward him. He felt her breath. Warm. Silky. Her hands cupped his balls, fingers stroking caresses. He felt each touch searing through skin to stir that seething mass of pure magma waiting to explode. Her lips parted. His breath caught in his throat. Burned in his lungs.
Looking straight into his eyes, she caught at his hip with one hand, the other still cupping his sac, and her tongue slid up his shaft, from root to the underside of the crown. His entire body shuddered. The muscles in his thighs tightened. The fire in his belly burned hotter, sending more liquid flames racing through his bloodstream. It wasn't just the exquisite feeling of her tongue and hands, it was the sight of her, the dress, her hair, the look of hunger on her face as she parted her lips and drew the broad flat head of his cock into the heat of her mouth.
Once again his breath hissed out of him as her red lips stretched around his girth and she hollowed her cheeks and sucked. Hard. Tight. Hot. So hot. The sensation was beyond paradise. She sucked hard and then her tongue began a little foray over his shaft, teasing at the one spot that sent liquid drops spilling into her mouth. She caught them, swiping at them, hungry for more.
His enjoyment wasn't just about the way she looked, at his feet, her lips wrapped around his cock buried deep in her mouth, or the sensation now, it was the way she gave him this. Eager. Wanting to please him. That mattered to her. He mattered to her. His pleasure. She wanted that for him and she gave it to him. This was all for him. Every sweet stroke of her tongue, every hard suckle of her mouth - was for him.
He murmured encouragement to her. Love to her. Swore in his own language when the fire turned scorching and he knew he should end it before he exploded down her throat, but he couldn't force himself to pull away from her. His hips began moving of their own accord, little surges that pressed him deeper, that took him further into paradise. She didn't pull away or try to take back complete control. She gave him that. Her eyes lavished love on him. Burned with lust. Her breasts flushed even darker, her nipples so hard and beautiful he couldn't resist reaching down to feel that beauty - take what was his, what she gave him.
He tugged and rolled while her breath hitched around him, and then she moaned. The sound vibrated up his shaft and he dropped his hands to her hair. All that silky, wild, fiery hair. The knot was sexy, and messy enough that he could delve his fingers deep, curl them into two tight fists and hold her head still while he pushed his hips into that incredible inferno.
So close. He felt it in his balls as they drew tight. Boiling hot. Her fingers stroked. Caressed. Her mouth pulled and suckled hard. Milking. Drawing that hot, liquid magma right out of him. He felt the eruption start somewhere in his toes, move up his calves and rush through his thighs until his cock jerked and pulsed, pouring into her, down her throat, hot as hell.
She didn't pull away, didn't try to lift her head, but she took every drop of his release. Every drop that belonged only to her. He groaned with the pleasure burning through him. Watching her, unable to look away from the sight of those red lips stretched around him, her throat working, her eyes on his, giving him that gift.
She was so fucking beautiful, and what she gave him was even more so. She gentled her movements, ran her tongue up and over him, lapped at him with care, still watching him.
She'd drained him dry, but the sight of her kneeling there, her lips swollen, eyes on his, a pearl drop resting in the corner of her mouth to be caught by a swipe of her small tongue, stirred him to life.
"I'm so wet for you. I loved that. Watching your face, watching what that did to you. You're delicious, honey." Her purring voice was stark with honesty.
He caressed her face with the pads of his fingers, slid them into the silk of her hair and massaged her scalp gently. "I think you love my cock, not me."
Her tongue slid around her lips, both top and bottom and then she smiled at him slow. Sexy. "I have to admit, I'm a little addicted to your cock, so yeah, I love it, but I love you too, so don't be jealous."
"Take my shoes off, malyshka." His voice was husky.
She did as he asked, leaning down to untie his shoes and loosen the laces. He loosened his tie, took it off and shrugged out of his jacket. He steadied himself by putting a hand on her shoulder, allowing her to slip off his shoes and socks. He unbuttoned his shirt, his gaze still holding hers, and tossed it aside.
Immediately, without him having to direct her, she reached up to tug at the waistband of his trousers, removing them and his boxers at the same time. She leaned into him and pressed a kiss to the crown of his cock before taking his hand and coming to her feet. He bent his head and took her left breast in his mouth, suckling hard, using tongue and teeth to draw gasps. His other hand caressed and soothed her right breast while he worked her left one hard, creating warring sensations in her.
She cried out and cradled his head to her, stroking his hair, her body shuddering with pleasure. She was already ready for him, completely turned on just from sucking him off. He loved that. Loved that she admitted it to him without any embarrassment. She was fire, to match his, burning from the inside out. Going up in flames with him and getting off on it.
He took his time, bending her back so that her breasts thrust upward, an offering. Switching to the other breast with his mouth, he used his hand as a counterpoint to the searing heat and stinging bites. She moaned, her body nearly writhing against his. He savored the feel of her breasts, her hard nipples, the way she reacted, telling him everything he needed. Her breathy moans, the little gasping hitches. His woman liked it hot and rough. She went wild when he used the edge of his teeth. When he lapped with his tongue and then suckled hard.
He lifted his head when her hips began to push into him, seeking relief. "Turn around, malyshka." His hands were already guiding her. She was too dazed and needy to comply on her own. Her little cry of protest was not lost on him, so he pulled her against him briefly, reaching around her to give her one last tug and roll on her nipples, his mouth against her neck. "You like that, don't you?"
"Yes." She barely breathed the word.
"You like it rough." He licked over the sweet spot where her shoulder and neck connected.
"Yes." Her assent was a breathy whisper.
He bit down. Hard. Her back arched. She cried out. He suckled. His tongue lapped. "I'm going to leave my mark all over you. Every fucking inch of you, Giacinta. Inside your body. Outside. Every square inch of you is mine and I'm marking my territory." He sounded primitive because he felt primitive. "That's what you do to me. I turn into a caveman. You think my brother's one, but you've got your own and you love it. You love every fucking thing I do to you."
He slipped the buttons out of the loops, opening the back of her dress, his mouth against the nape of her neck. "Say, it, golubushka, I want the words. You'll give me anything I want, won't you?"
Very slowly, keeping her turned toward the window away from him, he slid the dress from her body, leaving her in her lacy panties, silk stockings and garters and the sexy silver heels. He ran his hand down her spine while she stepped out of the gown, all the way to the curve of her ass. He caressed the firm globes and then moved his hands up to cup her breasts, his body urging hers forward until she was at the couch, still facing the window.
"Kneel on the couch, Giacinta," he whispered against her nape. "Facing the back, knees spread wide."
She didn't hesitate, but placed first one knee and then the other up onto the cushions, her knees wide. She looked sexy in her ivory silk stockings, high heels and bare skin. He put a hand to her back and pressed her breasts against the cushioned back, so that the materials rubbed against her sensitive nipples. She gasped as his mouth slid down her spine, trailing kisses, occasionally nipping. His fingers trailed up the inside of her thigh. Barely there. Only a whisper of a touch.
Lissa bucked, pushed her face into the top of the couch, gasping for breath. He was making her come apart and he'd barely touched her. "Casimir." She said his name, her mind in chaos, unable to think clear enough to demand what she needed from him.