Page 87 of The Beast of Moscow

She did just that.

Took him right to the damn base.

The way her tongue flattened against the underside of his shaft while her throat muscles worked to relax along his entire length was enough to drive him crazy.

Too late.

He already was.

Air rushed hard from Vera’s nose as she watched him through the messy strands of her hair, and he kept her there with his hand. Mouth stretched wide around his cock. Water in her eyes.

He took the pressure off the back of her head at the same time he said, “Every fucking drop, Vera. Get it all out.”

It’d been too long since Vaslav emptied his balls and if God was real and good, He knew she had the perfect mouth to do the job.

As soon as he let her take over without his physical direction, she proved him right. She used one hand to work the base of his shaft while she bobbed fast to meet her stroking fist. That wickedly sweet mouth of hers would only slow so she could tease the slit at the head of his dick, licking away precum and letting him see how she swept the beading drops along the tip of her tongue before they disappeared.

His approval came out in a long, guttural moan that he tried to bury into his hand and failed. He couldn’t even look away from her anymore. The tightening in his spine and the familiar warmth pooling in his nuts said everything, anyway.

Vaslav had been more humiliated when he couldn’t rid his erection earlier in the shower and she pretended not to notice than he was when he realized she was going to make him blow his load in a shamefully short amount of time.

Maybe it was her talent.

She did have a candy-sweet mouth, after all.

Really, it was just the fact that he hadn’t been touched in years. Not like this. Not with a woman who hadn’t been paid to do the job, frankly, or one that watched him with hungry eyes like Vera did.

“Khristos,” he hissed, his neck falling back to the edge of the bucket chair.

Not even the sight of the ceiling could keep him from coming when he could feel the way her throat swallowed around him as she took him back to the base again.

“Fuck, don’t you dare move,” he uttered, his hand settling firmly to the back of her neck as all that tension came rushing out.

She took him beautifully.

Like a goddamn champ.

He only rolled his head a bit on the chair, just enough to watch her take the last drop before he let her go. She didn’t even choke on his cum, or the force as which he’d released into the back of her throat, and she took her time sucking clean his shaft and tip before she released him with a soft pop. But the streaks down her cheeks from the tears that had escaped her eyes and her swollen lips did the most dangerous things to his self-control.

Then, she licked what remained of him away on her lips, too.

With a sinful little smile.

Vas let out a ragged exhale, yanking her into his lap before she could say a word otherwise. Her trembling lips found his while she settled in his lap, her legs straddling his waist. He could smell her now—how wet she was, the tangy scent of her wetness clung to the bit of air between them.

He stole one more kiss before biting lower, on her chin.

All she could do was sigh.

Sigh, and shift.

Thin cotton was no match for her slickness that had apparently pooled between her thighs while she’d sucked him off. Her panties were soaked through, and he could feel the fleshy outline of her pussy grinding along his still hard length. Every shift of her hips, seeking and finding that sweet spot, sent shivers racing over her shoulders and down her spine.

Pushing the wild hair out of her eyes, Vaslav asked her, “What do you want? Tell me.”

“Ebat’.”

The breathless word should have been music to his ears.