Page 74 of Veil of Smoke

“Please, Viviana,” he groans. “Touch me.”

I do. My hand wraps his cock, stroking slow, firm, thumb circling the head. He bucks beneath me, a sharp sound tearing from his throat.

“Like that?” I ask, squeezing tighter.

“Yeah,” he gasps. “Fuck, yeah.”

I pump him faster, watching his chest heave, his muscles strain against the urge to move. Sweat beads on his brow, trickling down his temple.

“You’re so hard,” I say, voice husky. “All for me.”

“Yours,” he grits out. “All yours.”

I shift. Slide down his body. My mouth hovers over his cock, breath hot against the tip. He tenses, feeling it, knowing what’s coming.

“Tell me you want it,” I say.

“I want it,” he rasps. “Fuck, I need your mouth.”

I lick him, slow, from base to tip, tasting salt and heat. He groans loud, hips jerking, and I pin him down with my hands.

“Stay still,” I order, then take him in, lips closing around him, sucking deep.

“Fuck, Viviana,” he moans. “Right there.”

I work him, tongue swirling, taking him to the back of my throat. He’s thick, filling my mouth, and I hum, letting the vibration hit him hard.

“Shit,” he gasps. “You’re killing me.”

I pull off, slow, dragging my lips along him. “Good,” I say, then dive back, sucking harder, messier, spit dripping down his shaft.

“Please,” he begs again, voice wrecked. “Don’t stop.”

I don’t. I bob my head, fast then slow, teasing the head with my tongue, then taking him deep again. His thighs shake under me, every muscle locked tight.

“Fuck, I’m close,” he warns, voice breaking.

“Not yet,” I say, pulling off. I climb back up, straddling his chest now. “You don’t come until I say.”

He groans, frustrated, blind and helpless.

I grab his hand. Guide it between my legs. “Feel me,” I tell him.

His fingers brush my pussy, slick and hot, and he curses under his breath. I press his hand harder, letting him feel how wet I am.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “You’re dripping.”

“For you,” I say, rocking against his fingers. “Make me come.”

Two fingers slide inside me, rough and deep, curling just right. I gasp, hips rolling, riding his hand.

“Right there,” I moan. “Fuck, yes.”

“Like that?” he asks, pumping faster, thumb finding my clit.

“Yeah,” I pant. “Harder.”

He gives it to me. His fingers thrust deep, relentless, rubbing my clit in tight circles. I’m trembling now, heat coiling low, and he feels it.

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