Page 102 of Breaking Away

My touch falters. I blink up at him.

“I haven’t had girlfriends,” he says, as if it makes complete sense.

“Dmitri,” I whisper, my breath hitching. “I don’t understand.”

“You don’t have to,” he says, raggedly. “Just keep touching yourself, baby. Make me suffer. Because I am. I’m fucking dying. You’re killing me.”

I press the heel of my palm against my pussy, moaning. “I’ve never done anything like this in my life. But I want to. So badly.”

“You’re doing so well, Kavi. That’s it. Keep touching that pretty little pussy.” His voice is low, obscene, and somehow still demanding. “Part those gorgeous lips for me. Be a good girl. Let me see that beautiful little clit. It’s needy, isn’t it? I need to see properly. Come on. Show me what I can’t have. Show me your heaven, baby.”

I part myself.

His pupils blow out. “I could make it feel so good. Don’t you want that? Let me. I’ll suck and lick that sweet clit for hours.”

“All n-night?”

“Keep me on the foot of your bed tonight. That’s where I’ll sleep. I’ll eat your pussy. Fuck my face with it, Princess. Say the word.”

Wetness slides down my thighs. Needy noises start low in my throat. I’ve never come with Tyler in the room. There was so much pretending there. But with him, with Dmitri, he hasn’t even touched me and I’m scorched. Writhing.

“You’re so beautiful. So gorgeous. So perfect.” His cheeks are flush and his eyes are unfocused as he shows me his hands. His fingers are thick and ready. “Please?”

I’m shaking harder. His words are so eager and filthy and sincere that I can’t stop.

“Put me to use.”

I’m hurtling up and over?—

“I would fuck you like it means everything, Princess.”

I come.

He carries me to my bed, still wearing his apron, telling me how beautiful I am, that I’ve done so well, and that I ruined him so completely that he doesn’t know what to do next.

The journey to the bedroom is slow. Dmitri takes breaks, just standing there and holding me.

When he finally tucks me into my covers, he lingers.

I’m so boneless it takes effort for my eyes to stay open.

But when he turns to leave, I catch him by the hand.

“You weren’t turned on,” I remember, my grip tightening. My other hand gestures. The front of his apron had stayed flat.

He brings my hand to his mouth and kisses every single knuckle. Then he lets go and steps back, turning to the side and lifting the apron.

Oh… Oh my god.

Underneath is his cock. Big, thick, and perfect.

The top is dripping. So is the front of his body.

He’s come all over himself. And he’s still hard.

So hard his cock looks angry.

But the reason the apron didn’t bulge out with his erection is because he’s used athletic tape to strap himself against his stomach.

---