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“Oh. My. God.”

He laughed, the sound strained. “You like watching me finger myself? Maybe I don’t need your mouth after all. Should that be your punishment, Yuriy? Watching me pleasure myself right in front of you?” He slowly pulled his fingers out. “Open up, kroshka.”

I sucked his fingers into my mouth, licking around them. He pulled them out and spread himself open while easing back onto my tongue, which slid easily inside him after he’d opened himself up for me with his fingers.

“Oh fuck.” He bucked against my tongue, and my heart pounded at the sight as blood thundered in my ears. His cries grew louder as I worked my tongue deeper inside him. Every sound he made was like a rush of adrenaline, urging me to give more, to take more.

“Enough.” Panting, Stas jerked my head back by the hair when I didn’t immediately obey. I spat on his hole and smirked as he mock-glared at me over his shoulder. “I was going to ride you, but maybe I shouldn’t.”

I grinned at him, licking my lips as he climbed down the couch. “Let’s see you fucking try.” I spread my legs wider for him. “You want this as badly as I do, Stanislav, so stop torturing yourself and sit on my cock, gryáznaya dévochka.”

His hands skimmed up his body, fingers teasing the hem of the skirt until it bunched up around his waist. Stas reached for the lube we’d left on the small table next to the couch and applied a generous amount onto my dick.

One.

Two.

Three…

I counted to prevent myself from busting my nut at the feel of his hand on me. He had a knowing look on his face as he settled between my legs, skirt gathered at his waist with one hand. With the other, he held my cock and hovered there, not quite allowing contact. The teasing sensation only amplified the desperate need gnawing at me.

Over his shoulder, his eyes locked onto mine, and the corners of his mouth curled into a wicked grin. Then slowly, agonizingly, he lowered himself. The gasp that tore from my throat was half pain, half pleasure.

It hurt…God, it hurt so good.

All thoughts of restraint were chased away as he sank onto my length, the tight heat of him wrapping around me completely. I gritted my teeth, fighting the instinct to thrust up into him. Sweat glided down my brow, and my vision blurred as I struggled to stifle the screaming plea for release.

“Yuriy.” Stas’s voice broke through my haze, the sound of my name on his lips a deadly, sweet torment. He allowed the skirt to fall onto my lap, hiding that sexy ass from me as he moved with a slow, calculating rhythm. “How’s that punishment going for you, kroshka?”

I could only moan in response. The words died in my throat as he squeezed around me, clenching perfectly in time with his rhythmic rise and fall. I was already so close.

“Baby, I’m not going to last,” I wheezed. “Your ass feels so fucking good.”

His arm moved back and forth as he stroked himself. His hips rose and slammed down harder. Smack. Smack. Smack. Our moans and grunts filled the space between the sounds of slapping skin. I snapped my hips up erratically, the only way I could reach him, meet him, feel him. Every time he sank down on me, Stas tightened around my cock in a way that punched the air straight out of my lungs.

“Yuriy…” His voice broke, just a crack, but enough to wreck me. He braced his hands on the arms of the couch, tipping his head back, the little black skirt fluttering with every movement as he rode me slow, then harder, then slow again, tormenting us both. His thighs trembled around my hips, muscles taut, and his breath turned ragged.

I couldn’t grab him.

Couldn’t hold him.

Couldn’t guide him.

The silk tie kept my wrists pinned uselessly behind me, and it made everything sharper, hungrier, watching him take what he wanted from me without my hands on him, without my touch, without anything except the raw, shaking need tearing us open.

“Stas,” I gasped. “Baby… please.”

“You feel… so good,” he whispered, voice frayed, the skirt brushing my stomach as he moved faster. “Don’t… stop.”

As if I could.

I surged my hips up to meet him, matching his rhythm blindly. His body welcomed every thrust with a shudder, tightening around me in pulses that made heat streak up my spine. The way he moaned my name nearly undid me.

I heard it now—his breathing, mine, the soft slap of skin, the whisper of fabric, the creak of the couch beneath us. Every sound building, building, building⁠—

“I’m close,” he choked out.

I broke.