Page 33 of Conceal

I suck in a deep breath and pull from some unknown strength I have inside me to be seen. I drop my arms to my sides and let him look. I know having his cock in my mouth a second ago was intimate, but this almost feels more so. Getting him off is one thing - being so seen is another.

His dark eyes eat up my chest hungrily, and suddenly I wonder how I compare to every other woman he’s seen naked. And I know he’s seen plenty. He and Niko never shied away from talking about their conquests, and even after starting as my bodyguard, he would sneak away when off duty.

But the way his eyes soften as he takes me in, the way they heat, I suddenly don’t care. He’s here, now, with me, and it looks like he likes what he sees.

“May I?” he asks, tugging at my leggings, and I almost laugh out loud. This was the same Lev who pinned me against the wall and wrapped his hand around my neck. Now, suddenly, he’s found his manners. But honestly, I think that’s what gives me the courage to continue. He’s not in charge. He’s not demanding or taking anything; he’s asking. He’s letting me use him selflessly.

I nod, biting my bottom lip. I may be aching, I may be nervous, but I’m fully in on this experience.

He drags my leggings down slowly, as if he’s unwrapping a present he wants to savor. Now, insecurity does flood me, and I cover my core with my hands.

“I... I... I haven’t shaved...” I stammer. I’m normally good about waxing and shaving at home, but between the hospital for Roman and preparing for the storm, I hadn’t bothered. If you’d told me yesterday I’d be naked and on display for these three men to devour me, I’d never have believed you.

Lev’s returning smile is indulgent.

“You think a little hair’s going to stop me?” And the teasing Lev I know so well is back, but it’s as if we’re on the same team this time.

He gently grips my knees and spreads them open.

“Wha... what are you doing?”

“Returning the favor,” he say quickly, dropping to his elbow.

“Oh. Uh. You really don’t have to. I’ve never...”

His smile softens as he kisses the inside of my thigh. He shakes his head softly, letting his five o’clock shadow scrape the skin there deliciously. “It’s not a favor. I shouldn’t have said that. Tasting you is a gift. Any man is lucky to be able to taste you on his tongue, no matter what. You remember that, yeah?”

It’s not so easy for me. I worry I taste weird, or different, or bad, let’s be honest. Even in porn, going down on a girl seems more like a check in the box than anything. I can imagine a director somewhere off screen saying, “Make it look like you want to be here for twenty-five seconds and then we can move on.”

I’ve never heard it described as a gift. Even in the romance novels I read, it’s there, and it always sounds amazing, but it’s never like the guy feels lucky to be down there. A few books I’ve read, where the main male character gets off by going down on his lady, are top tier, but even I know that’s fantasy, right?

“Can I taste you?” Lev asks. I look at Mik, whose face is stony, but watching, to Roman over my shoulder, who’s simply watching, likely ready to step in if things go bad.

I look back at Lev, waiting for me patiently. Fuck it. If I’m going to explore my sexuality, it’ll have to include this. I need to know whether this is something I even like or not.

So, I rest my head back against the mattress and nod.

The first swipe of his tongue has me practically levitating off of the mattress. I clamp my legs around his head, boxing his face between my thighs comically. He grins up at me in the firelight and gently pulls my knees apart again.

“Don’t keep my new favorite dessert away from me, princess.”

A violent shiver wracks through me, and I will my muscles to relax. I don’t know what I was expecting, but the warm wetness of his tongue, the foreignness of the feeling, is making me lightheaded. He’s tasting the most intimate parts of me.

I’m determined to see this through, so I throw my arm over my eyes to hide my face so I don’t overthink what it’s doing, and he laps at me again like I’m a goddamn ice cream cone. I whine, my pussy clenching around air, wanting more, wanting less; I don’t even know.

He wraps his arms around my thighs and drags me harder against his face. His beard burns the sensitive skin on the inside of my thighs, but all I can feel is his tongue, thrusting in and out of me wickedly. It’s not enough to get me anywhere near an orgasm, but it’s delicious and naughty and sinful. I can’t help the moans that pour out of me.

But when he drags his tongue up my slit and circles my sensitive clit, my hand slams onto the back of his head as my back arches.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, Lev. Yes. Right there. Oh God,” I blubber, half English, half Russian, I think.

“Mik, wanna help?” Lev asks, nodding his head toward me before his tongue circles my clit again.

Before I know what’s happening, the top half of me is being lifted and nestled down again against Mikhail’s chest. We’ve been in this same position a million times - watching TV, cuddling before bed - but never naked. His warm hands coast up my ribs, causing me to shiver, as his fingers trace the curve just below my breasts, but never where I want them. I want his fingers on my aching nipples; I want his mouth there; I want everything.

I moan my complaint until Mik cups my heavy breasts with his calloused hands, pulling a gasp from me. Mik’s touching me. Like this. Touching me like I never thought he would. Crossing that line with him feels way more scary than crossing it with Lev or Roman. This is my best friend.

The forbiddeness of it has my pussy tingling and every inch of his skin on mine vibrating. When I turn to look up at him, to make sure we’re still okay, and that by the end of this arrangement we’ll still be as close as ever, he presses his lips to mine and takes my mouth in the world’s most decadent kiss.