Page 52 of Influence

“Lie down,” he commanded, and immediately, goosebumps prickled all over my skin.

I stripped bare—nervous, exposed, and aching to be his. Before him, my eyes fixed on his commanding silhouette as he moved with assured allure. A sly, knowing curve touched the corners of his lips as he reached into an ornate, vintage nightstand and withdrew a pair of silky scarves, the cool fabric slipping effortlessly through his confident fingers. My heart thundered with excitement and trembling anticipation as the moment unfolded between us.

“Trust me,” he whispered, and our eyes locked in a silent, potent promise that both eased my fluttering apprehension and stirred a deep, all-consuming longing inside me.

“I do,” I declared with raw truth and desire.

With intentional care, he secured the scarves around my wrists, the fabric looping gracefully above my head with a sense of firmness that felt both protective and possessively tender.

“Perfect.” He leaned in to let his lips trace a slow, intentional path along my jawline, gliding over the smooth surface of my neck and the curves of my chest.

His fingers traced my skin like a whisper, igniting sparks of desire with every gentle caress. Each kiss lingered, warm and intoxicating, drawing sighs from my lips, leaving me breathless and yearning for more, as if each moment alone would never satisfy the volatile need building between us.

Every kiss heightened need, driving up my arousal and quickening my breath. A deep sound escaped my lips, a primal response to the electric energy between us. Our bodies pulled closer, fueling a hunger that demanded satisfaction.

My skin tingled with each interaction, creating a passionate spark that consumed my thoughts and wrapped around my very essence as his tongue teased my hardened nipple.

“Tell me exactly what you want,” he said with a steely dominance that challenged me to reveal my secret cravings and dared me to break my silence. “Spill every desire, my Laya.”

For a painful moment, humiliation wrestled with a yearning inside me. His firm yet tender grip on my chin encouraged me to meet his piercing gaze.

“Don’t be shy. I want to hear it,” he urged. “I promise, there’s no judgment here. Trust me.”

Trusting him was the one thing I was certain of, especially here.

Swallowing hard and steadying my racing heart, I whispered, “I want you to take complete control. I want you to push me, to make me entirely yours.”

A hint of satisfaction appeared in his eyes as he whispered, “Good girl,” before redirecting his attention to my breast,showering me with a series of delicious, wicked kisses that sent delightful shivers through every one of my nerves.

“You belong to me tonight,” he murmured between nips and licks, his statement resonating as both a promise and an invitation.

With measured intent, his hand drifted lower, exploring the swollen folds between my thighs with slow, seductive strokes. I arched into his touch, my core spasming and flooding with need.

“Tell me, does this meet your expectations?" he asked, his voice revealing a blend of curiosity and enticing authority.

I moaned, my body writhing and begging for him to continue the torment his skilled fingers evoked.

“Yes…it feels so right.” I gasped and trembled.

Every feathery touch fanned the flames of my desire, pushing me towards the edge of a cliff I desperately wanted to reach. My gasps and whispered pleas resonated in the room, blending with his deep, commanding timbre.

My pussy clenched and my skin burned. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe. I was losing my mind. I had to come.

“Niko, please.”

“I’m here, Laya. Just let go,” he cooed reassuringly.

Then, with a surge of confident grace, he lowered his mouth to my wet, aching pussy. His tongue served as both a seductive invitation and a tantalizing tease. It sought my swollen clit with a desperate hunger.

“Oh, God,” I screamed and thrashed.

“Are you ready for me?” The question was more of a husky challenge that made my heart race faster.

My desire soaked his seeking mouth as he explored and teased my most sensitive parts. Every lick became a carefully choreographed dance of power and exquisite agony, his calculated flicks igniting tiny quivers deep in my core and making my thighs shake.

Maintaining mesmerizing control, he kept a relentless, rhythmic pace.

“Tell me if you want it harder,” he murmured while his tongue moved in deliberate, pulsing patterns that sent waves of pleasure crashing through me.

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