Page 66 of Isaia

Just. Fucking. Me.

“Beg me to fuck you,” I bite out, my cock straining, balls pulled tight. “Beg me to make your pussy mine.”

“No,” she whimpers, and something red-hot rushes through my veins, burning through my control. “Not today.”

“Fuck!” I jerk her thighs apart, rough, spreading them, and she gasps. And while her lips form the perfect fucking O for me, I sweep my tongue through her mouth, deep and desperate, needing her taste to sink all the way into my fucking soul.

“You think Paladino knows you?” I hook my fingers under the edge of her panties. “Think he can ever make you feel like this?”

I rip the lace down her legs and toss it aside, watching as her chest rises and falls in rapid succession.

“You’re mine, Everly,” I grunt, and she moans as I shove a finger into her soaked cunt. “He has no fucking right to look at you the way he did. And if he does it again, I’ll cut out his liver and feed it to the crows.”

“Isaia…”

“I’m going to eat you out,” I growl, gripping her thigh and bending her knee, placing her foot on the desk to spread herwide. “And you’re going to look at me while I bury my face in your pussy, so you know exactly who you belong to.”

I drop to my knees, and the second my tongue drags over her slick cunt, she gasps, her head falling back.

“Eyes,” I bite out, my hands tightening on her thighs. “On me.”

She forces her gaze down, her pupils blown wide, and fuck if that doesn’t light a fire in my motherfucking balls.

I hold her there with my stare, my tongue gliding over her clit in slow circles, each movement meant to make her squirm. I vary the pressure, teasing her with featherlight strokes before pressing firmer, dragging out every shaky breath and quiet moan.

Then I switch, licking the sensitive bundle of nerves with quick, sharp motions before returning to those maddeningly slow circles.

I want her teetering on the edge, to drive her to the brink of madness with me.

Her body trembles, her legs trying to close, but I grip her thighs harder, keeping her open for me.

“You don’t move unless I say so. You take what I give you, and once I’m done, you’ll fucking thank me like my good little girl.”

My hands tighten on her inner thighs, my thumbs spreading her pussy open, and I lick at her entrance, then drive my tongue inside her. She gasps, her hips jerking, but my grip holds her steady.

Her hands fly to my hair, fingers tangling, pulling, and I thrust my tongue in and out, fucking her with it, my nose brushing against her clit with every movement.

God, her scent, citrus with a hint of flowers—it’s intoxicating. It cuts through everything else, grounding me right here, between her legs, where I belong, where I’ll gladly suffocate.

Every flick of my tongue is deliberate, every movement designed to break her down inch by inch. The way her body reacts—the sharp jolts of her hips, the tremble in her thighs—drives me further into this unrelenting need to claim her.

A broken moan slips past her lips, and I can’t help the grin that tugs at mine.

“That’s it, baby,” I murmur against her swollen pussy. “Let me hear you.”

“Oh, God,” she whimpers, her mouth open as she tries to breathe, her gaze glued on me, watching as I tongue-fuck her cunt, deeper, slower, then faster, curling inside her, dragging against every sensitive inch.

Her walls tighten, a perfect squeeze around every thrust of my tongue, and the way her body clenches in anticipation fuels the raging lust while her taste floods my senses—heaven and sin—my cock aching against my jeans. I want every drop of her juices, taste it on my tongue for days.

A growl vibrates from my throat to her pussy, and her grip tightens in my hair, desperate to pull me closer, deeper.

Those beautiful, plump lips part as she pants loudly, rapidly, her breaths coming in short, sharp bursts as I relentlessly suck her clit and plunge my tongue into her again and again.

Her control slips, and I can feel it—the shift, the way her body starts to shudder, her legs shaking as those soft, supple thighs pull taut beneath my grip.

The tension winds through her, tight and relentless, and I revel in how she’s falling apart under my control. Every tremor, every quiver is mine. She’s holding on by a thread, and I’m the one pulling it, determined to watch her come undone.

“That’s my good girl,” I praise, my tongue working her into a frenzy. “Come, baby girl. Give me everything.”

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