Page 11 of King of Shadows

I follow every order, fingers working between my legs, other hand on my breast, breath breaking. This one builds faster and harder than the orgasm he walked in on. That was nothing compared to this. Him watching, telling me what to do, looking at me like he wants to ruin me.

“Kazimir—” My voice cracks. “I’m going to come.”

“Come for me baby.”

I throw my head back and break with a loud cry, shaking through it, gasping. When I finally open my eyes again, he’s already stripped down to black boxer briefs, and there is nothing restrained left in his face.

There’s a fresh bandage around his side. He must have gotten someone to dress it. Then my eyes move from his wound to the rest of his body. He is all hard lines under the bedroom light. Washboard abs, an eight-pack (yes, I actually counted them) cut deep enough to cast shadows, ink scrolling over his chest and down each arm. The tattoos disappear under the bandage and pick up again along his ribs. He looks like a Greek god.

He climbs over me and brackets my thighs with his, caging me in. Then he catches the hand I just had between my legs, brings my wet fingers to his mouth, and licks them clean. A low sound leaves him.

“Fuck. You taste like heaven.”

Then his mouth comes down on mine. The kiss is better than anything I imagined. He kisses like he knows what he’s doing. He leads, I follow. I mimic the slide of his tongue, the pull of his lips, and lose time inside it. When he finally breaks away, his voice is wrecked.

“I need to taste you. Properly.”

He kisses down my throat, over my collarbone, then takes his time with my breasts, sucking, teasing, dragging his tongue over each nipple until I’m arching off the mattress. Then lower, over my stomach, and between my legs.

The first pass of his tongue over my clit makes me throw my head back. “Kazimir—”

He doesn’t rush. He eats me out like he has the whole night to do it. He circles, flicks, then flattens his tongue and licks through me in one slow swipe before pushing inside. I try to close my legs. He doesn’t let me. He hooks them over his shoulders and holds me open, eating me like he’s been starving for it.

“Oh…Kazimir…”

My hands fist in his hair. I tug. I cry out. The walls in this building are thin. I know Mrs. Alvarez next door can probably hear every sound coming out of my mouth. But I do not care.

He eats me with relish, like I’m a three-course meal he has no intention of sharing. My hips buck. He pins them down and keeps going until the second orgasm slams into me harder than the first, dragging a scream out of my throat.

When he lifts his head, his eyes are dark and glazed, his mouth shining with me. I watch him drag his thumb across his lower lip, then suck it clean.

“Sweetest fucking thing I’ve ever had on my tongue,” he says.

He comes back up and kisses me. I taste myself on his mouth and chase it, our tongues sliding together. His cock presses against me through his briefs, teasing my entrance with every shift of his hips. It’s not enough. I buck up, hunting friction, and still it’s not enough.

He breaks from my mouth to kiss down my neck, then takes my breasts in his hands again. I had no idea they were this sensitive. He sucks, bites gently, pinches just enough to make me gasp, and all the while that hard length keeps dragging over where I need him most.

I become a mess. “Please,” I whimper. “Kazimir—please.”

He lifts his head. His eyes are dark and knowing. “What do you want?”

He knows. He wants to hear it anyway. “I want you inside me. Now. If you don’t, I swear I’m going to lose my mind.”

“Your wish is my command.” That smirk. The one that wrecks me. He hooks his thumbs in his briefs. I help drag them down, and then he springs free.

Whoa. He’s big. Bigger than anyone I’ve ever been with. Thick enough that my stomach flips.

“You like what you see?” he asks.

“That’s going to split me in half.”

He chuckles against my mouth. “No. It’s going to fit, and you will take it like a good girl.”

He kisses me slower now, almost careful, and slides his fingers between my legs. He teases first, then works three fingers into me. I buck at the stretch. He’s preparing me, I realize. Opening me for him.

When I’m shaking again, he pulls his fingers out, lines himself up, and holds my eyes as he pushes in inch by inch. I can see the restraint in his face. The way his jaw locks. He doesn’t want to hurt me.

“You okay, baby?”