Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
He opens it and takes out a bottle of whipped cream. Usually I make my own, but we keep this on hand for emergencies. I'm boneless, barely holding myself on the edge of the table, when he comes back over to me.
How is he still walking right now?
He kneels, removes my apron, and cleans me up. I watch him drizzling a line of cream across the top of my thighs. "Dessert time."
He sucks the cream off and licks my clit. I'm so sensitized, having just come, my hips jerk, and I shake my head.
"No. No, too much."
But then he slows his roll ever so slightly, touching the tip of his tongue to my swollen, sensitive clit. So softly, so gently. And I want more. So much more. I'm drunk on adrenaline and pheromones. All I can think of is more.
He laps at the cream again lazily, hungrily, sucking my clit into his mouth and then pushing me to the edge until I'm swollen, begging, needy.
"Semyon… I can't. I can't!" I scream against the edge of the table. My thighs tremble as the aftershocks ripple through me. I'm so sensitive it feels like every flick of his tongue shoots through me, but he's relentless, taking his time, savoring every inch of me like I'm the most delicious, most decadent dessert he's ever tasted.
"Yes, you can," he says, and I almost believe him because he's so confident, and it feels like he knows fucking everything. "And you will, Anya."
He draws another line of whipped cream along the inside of my other thigh. The cool sensation makes me shiver. The contrast of hot and cold, overwhelming pleasure, mingles. My head falls back. I want so much fucking more. I want him to stop. I don’t want him to stop. I’m confused and eager.
He draws a pattern with the whipped cream—a fucking pattern like a gridlock across my thighs. His eyes meet mine with molten intensity as he lazily drags his tongue across the cream, lapping me up. I stifle a scream when his tongue meets my swollen, sensitive clit again.
"God…" I whisper.
"Good girl," he whispers back, breaking into a wicked grin. "Are you still fighting me?" He chuckles softly.
I shake my head, biting my lip as another climax builds. "I can't do it again. I can't. It's too much."
"Lie to yourself all you want, sweetheart, but your body tells me the truth."
His voice is slow and taunting, full of knowing. He presses a kiss to my other thigh before diving back between my legs. This time, there’s no escape. His mouth is ravenous, hungry, alternating between sucking and soft flicks, keeping me teetering right on the edge. It's building more powerfully than it was before.
My hips grind against his face as my fingers tangle in his hair, yanking him closer to me. I've lost all control, and I don't care. Right now, there's only one thing I want.
He drives me higher and higher until the pressure building inside is unbearable.
"Please, Semyon," I beg without shame. "Please don't stop."
He hums approvingly against my clit, the vibration sending waves of shock through me, before he adds two fingers, sliding into my slick heat with a rhythm that matches the strokes of his tongue. My whole body clenches as his curled fingers hit the spot that makes me cry out.
"I once read an article about a woman's ability to orgasm," he says quietly against my thigh.
Of course he fucking did.
"The women they tested got to sixty-five before they called it a day," he says with a dark chuckle. "We're nowhere near that, Anya. And the article explained how the women could've kept going."
“Looks like evolution got something right,” I breathe out.
He chuckles, his voice thick with desire. "Come for me, Anya." His tongue flicks again.
My body arches off the table, and I shatter, a scream tearing from my throat. The world tilts, and all I can feel are waves of pleasure. He doesn't stop until I'm sobbing his name.
“God, Semyon…”
I don’t know why I'm crying. It feels like the greatest release and my greatest fears were all wound together in a tight knot, and every time he makes me come, something loosens.
I finally slump against the table, and he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes dark with hunger. I know he's far from finished with me.
"You're not done yet," Semyon says, his voice rough. He pulls me into his arms, lifting me off the table. My legs wobble, and I love the sound of his slow chuckle. "I need you on your knees, Anya."
I drop to the floor, eager to return the pleasure he's given me. He's hard again. I run my hands over his thighs. His body tightens, his control slipping.
“Anya…”
I take him deep and suck, my tongue swirling around the sensitive underside of his thick, veined cock, hard again for round two. He groans, his hands tangling in my hair as he guides my movements. I love the power I have over him—the way his composure looks like it's about to shatter with the next flick of my tongue.