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Slowly, he leans in. His fingers brush over the sensitive skin of my inner thighs as he retrieves the still-buzzing vibrator and presses it back into my hand. “Don’t stop on my account,roza.”
The nickname shivers over my skin, sending goosebumps racing up and down my arms.
Fantasizing about Arsen is one thing, and it’s bad enough on its own. But experiencing him in the flesh is very different. Any sense of control I might’ve scrambled together is gone. I feel naked and vulnerable.
Scratch that: Iamnaked and vulnerable.
Which is exactly why I meet his eyes and say, “I don’t plan on it. I need this. But you need to leave.”
In one small thrust, I put the toy back in place while he watches.
“Laila…” Arsen swallows, his eyes locked on where I’m gently fucking myself. “There is no way in heaven or hell I’m walking away from you right now.”
My back arches, and I already know this isn’t going to be enough. My body knows what I could have instead, and it won’t settle for second-best. The only thing doing anything for me is Arsen’s attention on me. I can feel a desperate need rolling off of him in hot, heady waves.
“Fine. But if you’re going to stay, you have to help.”
He kneels next to me on the bed. “Tell me what you need, Laila. Ask me, and I’ll give it to you.”
My heart lurches into my throat, and I immediately swallow it down. This is still about me—what I need. This isn’t about him orus.
“I need to come. That’s it,” I whimper. “I need you to be my release.”
His hand smooths over my thigh, and I almost jerk off the bed. “You’re my wife. Myroza.I’ll be whatever you desire.”
I narrow my eyes. “Don’t make this something it isn’t. This is sex—nothing more.”
“It’s more for me. It’s everything for me, Laila. And it’ll be everything for you, too.” He wraps his hand around mine, claiming control of the toy. “But I can wait for you to come to terms with that.”
32
ARSEN
Working a vibrator into my wife isn’t what most people would call “giving her space,” but I’m not fucking her with my fingers, so it’s more space than I want to be giving.
“Arsen!” Laila gasps, lifting her hips. Her hand snakes down between us to wrap around my wrist. Her nails bite into my skin. “Arsen… more.”
And just like that, what little space existed between us is gone.
I all but snap the vibrator in half as I toss it to the floor and put my hands on my wife. I massage my palms up her quivering thighs and work my thumbs up and down, and up, and down, over her opening until she’s whining for me.
“You said you’d be my release.”
Our eyes meet over the length of her body, and fucking hell, I want to stay in this room forever. I want to bar the door and melt the key and make her look at me like that until we’re both too exhausted to stand.
She pouts out her full lower lip, and I work one finger into her. I watch the way her mouth softens and parts. Her eyes flutter closed, and she sighs as I stroke into her again and again, faster and faster.
Her thighs clench, but I pin them to the mattress. “No moving until I give you permission, princess,” I murmur. Then I bend low and kiss along the inside of her leg, tasting every inch of her until I seal my lips over her center, and she screams.
I clap a hand over her mouth as I taste and tease her orgasm out of her. “No screaming until I give you permission, either.” She scrapes her fingers through my hair and grinds her hips against my mouth, using me exactly like she said she would.
And I let her—until she sinks back into the bed, limp and panting.
Then I stand up.
It’s a dangerous game I’m playing, but I adjust my aching cock in my jeans and turn for the door.
“Where are you—?” She lifts herself onto her elbows. Her hair is mussed and her cheeks are flushed, and my fucking God, no one has ever looked so thoroughly fucked and fuckable in all of human history. “I thought…”
