Page 80 of Phantom Flower

***

It quickly became our routine.

Every night before bed, Dimitri would pull me close and ask, “What color tomorrow, little fairy?” I would tell him, and the next morning he would wake up before dawn, slip out into the woods while I was still sleeping, and come back with the perfect flower. He would clip it into my hair, kiss my temple, and we would go to school.

Then we would come home.

And every single day, morning and night, he made me come.

He was so fucking horny, constantly touching me, tasting me, pulling orgasms out of me. He used his hands, getting more and more creative, whispering filthy things in my ear while he worked me apart. I was not complaining. Not even a little.

But today was different.

I was leaning back against the marble kitchen counter, scrolling through my phone while waiting for the coffee to finish brewing, when Dimitri walked in. He stopped in the doorway the second he saw me. His eyes dragged over my body. I was only wearing one of his black shirts.

He crossed the kitchen, and before I could say anything, his mouth was on mine. The kiss was deep from the start. His hands gripped my waist, lifting me slightly so I was sitting on the edge of the counter. I wrapped my legs around him on instinct, pulling him closer as his tongue slid against mine.

We kissed for a long time. His hands roamed under the shirt, gripping my thighs, squeezing my ass, then sliding up to pinch my nipples through the fabric. I was already hard, my cock pressing against his stomach.

Then, Dimitri dropped to his knees in front of me.

My eyes widened.

“Dimitri, what are you doing?” I breathed.

I had heard the rumors at school. Dimitri Morozov did not get on his knees for anyone. Not during sex. Not ever. It was like an unspoken rule.

But here he was, on his knees on the kitchen floor, looking up.

His hands slid up my thighs, pushing the shirt higher.

My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he cut me off. “I’ve been dying to taste you. Properly.”

Before I could say anything else, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of my boxers and pulled them down in one smooth motion. My cock sprang free, already half-hard and flushed. Dimitri stared at it for a second, licking his lips like he was starving.

He leaned in and dragged his tongue slowly from the base of my cock all the way to the tip, collecting the bead of precum there. The wet heat of his tongue made my hips jerk.

“Oh my god…” I gasped, hands flying to his shoulders.

Dimitri groaned softly. He wrapped one hand around the base of my cock while his tongue circled the sensitive head. He licked, flicking his tongue over the slit, then flattening it and dragging it along the underside.

I was already shaking.

He looked up at me through his lashes.

“You’re so fucking sensitive,” he rasped. “I’ve barely started and you’re already trembling.”

Then he opened his mouth and took me in.

His mouth was wet and tight, and he did not hesitate. He sank down until I felt the head of my cock brush the back of his throat. He did not gag. He just moaned around me, the vibration shooting straight through my body.

“Fuck— Dimitri—” I choked out, my fingers tightening in his hair.

He pulled back slowly, letting his tongue drag along every inch, before sinking down again. This time he took me even deeper.

I was losing my mind.