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I know what he is going to do.

I still am not ready when his mouth reaches me.

His tongue licks through my pussy in one slow, open stroke, and my head falls back.

“God.”

“Nikolai,” he corrects against me.

I would laugh if I had enough air. Then his mouth closes around my clit, and every thought disappears.

He eats me with the same control he does everything else, except there is hunger beneath it, and that’s what ruins me. His tongue moves over my clit, then lower, dipping inside me, tasting what his fingers pulled from me. He makes a rough sound and holds my thighs wider.

I reach down and grip his hair. He looks up at me from between my legs. The sight almost makes me come again.

His mouth is wet. His eyes are locked on mine. Then he lowers his head and sucks my clit, and I break. My body jerks against his mouth. He holds me down and keeps going.

“Nikolai, wait⁠—”

He licks me through it, then pushes two fingers back inside me while I am still sensitive. My legs tremble around his shoulders. I don’t know whether I am trying to get away or get closer.

“Too much,” I gasp.

He lifts his head. “Do you want me to stop?”

The question is serious. His fingers are still.

I look down at him, panting. “No.”

His mouth returns to me. This time he’s rougher. I come again with my hands twisted in his hair and his name leaving me in broken pieces. My body feels loose and overheated, my skin damp, my breasts aching from his mouth.

He rises over me. I reach for his belt. This time he lets me.

My fingers are clumsy, but I get it open. He helps me with the rest, shoving his trousers and briefs down just enough for his cock to spring free. He is thick and hard, the head flushed, a bead of wetness already there.

I wrap my hand around him. His abdomen tightens. I stroke him slowly, watching his face the way he watched mine.

His hand comes down beside my head. “Careful.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to fuck you before I come.” The bluntness of it sends another rush of wetness through me.

I sit up and replace my hand with my mouth.

He curses.

I take him as deep as I can, my hand working the base while my lips move over him. He tastes salty and warm. His fingers slide into my hair, and this time his hips move a little, just enough for me to feel the restraint in his body. He wants to thrust. He wants more. He is holding back because he is making himself.

I suck harder.

His grip tightens. “Elara.”

I look up at him.

That’s a mistake.

The sight of his face, the tension in his jaw, the way his eyes burn down at me, makes me ache between my thighs again.