“God, you feel so good,” I whispered.
“Yeah?” he asked, gripping my ass. He rocked my hips back and forth.
“Yeah,” I said, smiling as I reached for his hands, moving them to my breasts. “Do I feel good?”
A strangled laugh tore from his throat, probably because I’d just started riding him. My movements were slow. I knew I wasn’t long for this. It was tiring, and Zahariev was going to want control.
“Yeah, little love,” he said. He was playing with my breasts, but our eyes were locked. He looked so out of his mind, eyes glazed but bright. “You feel fucking great.”
I laughed, breathless, as I bounced on his dick, and he bit his fist, groaning deeply. It was the hottest sound I’d ever heard him make. His fingers flexed, like he couldn’t decide if his desire to interrupt me was worth whatever impulse he was fighting.
“Do you want me to go faster?” I asked. I leaned forward, using the headboard for support. Zahariev kept his gaze on mine despite having my breasts in his face, my nipples grazing his chin. His hands smoothed down my back to my ass, gripping my flesh. It felt punishing, but in a good way.
“No,” he said, but his hold on me tightened. He rocked me back and forth while thrusting into me. I didn’t know if it was how well he filled me or the angle, but fuck, it felt good.
“Holy shit,” I gasped, feeling lightheaded and so fucking high.
Zahariev chuckled, and the sound made me feel warm all over.
He sat up, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, rocking against him. I nipped at his ear and sucked on his skin. I liked the way his grip tightened, the way his breath hissed as I played, though he gave just as much.
Then he moved, positioning me on my back, hovering over me. He kissed me hard and then sat on his heels, pushing my knees into the bed. He gripped his cock, stroking himself.
“How many times have you gotten off to the thought of me?” I asked.
“More than you could count,” he said, teasing my opening with the tip of his dick. I let my head fall back as I closed my eyes.
“Zahariev,” I whined.
I just wanted him inside me again.
“I love the way you say my name,” he said.
“Only when I’m begging though, right?”
“No,” he said, staring down at me. “I love it all the time, even when you’re pissed. Especially when you’re pissed. It makes me hard. It makes me want to fuck you.”
He thrust into me, gripping my thighs, holding me in place as his hips moved at a brutal pace. I gasped, arching against the bed, fisting the blankets. This pleasure was unholy, and I was possessed, utterly altered from the inside out.
Zahariev watched me with heated eyes, his expression different from before. He took fucking me seriously, and I felt every intention.
“I’m going to come,” he said.
I was wrong. That was the hottest thing I’d ever heard him say.
“Yes,” I breathed.
“Where?” he asked.
“Anywhere,” I said. “I just want to watch.”
I wanted to see what I’d done to him. I’d let him fill me with it later.
He grinned, and it was wicked. He bent and kissed me.
“You first,” he said.
He’d already gotten me close, so all it took was rubbing my clit a few times, and I burst. The orgasm hit me hard. My entire body locked around him.