Page 70 of Vows in Sin
In stark contrast to the domination he displayed, now, he lays me down like I’m something sacred, staring down at me like I’m a work of art. “My God, you are beautiful.”
My breath is already trembling as his mouth brushes mine—softly at first—then he trails lower, pressing kisses, playful nips, branding a path down my body.
He hitches up my dress. I lift my hips to let him.
A low moan. “No panties?—"
How does the man always forget? “I never wear them when I know I’m going to see you.”
“That’s the sexist thing I’ve ever heard.”
My thighs part for him without question. It’s instinct now. Need. Worship. He pushes my legs open and looks up at me. The soft sound that escapes my throat—the mewl I can’t suppress—makes him smile.
“You are so beautiful,” he murmurs. “So soft, so precious, and so incredibly sweet. I’m addicted to your scent.”
His tongue is broad, warm, devastating. He drags it between the slick folds of my sex like he’s starving for me, and I nearly sob. My hands scramble for his shoulders, nails pressing in as I gasp and twist beneath the assault of his tongue. My back arches, hips tilting, lips parted on breathless whimpers.
He doesn’t look away. His eyes stay locked on mine while he licks me like he’s feeding on more than just my body—like he wants my soul too.
And I want to give it.
Pressure coils inside me, impossibly tight. My thighs tremble, my clit so swollen it pulses. I’m right there. Balanced on the edge of something that will ruin me.
Then he gives the command, low and sinful: “Come.”
And he seals his mouth around me.
The world shatters.
I cry out his name, bucking against his face as the orgasm detonates. It’s wild. Violent. Beautiful. My fingers dig into his shoulders, dragging him closer like I need him to anchor me through the storm.
But he doesn’t stop.
He keeps teasing—suckling, licking, gently grazing my clit with his teeth. I moan, helpless against it, as aftershocks ripple through me. And then, with one final drag of his tongue, he thrusts inside me—slow, deep, claiming.
“Oh, God, yes,” I gasp, my voice raw, ruined.
He smiles against my flesh. I feel it. And something in the air shifts. The intensity sharpens.
Then—he licks lower.
My breath catches. His tongue strokes across my perineum, and my hips jolt. I feel him gripping my ass, gently pulling me open.
And then?—
The tip of his tongue touches my other entrance.
I freeze.
“No!” I gasp, voice high and tight.
“Yes,” he growls, not with cruelty—but with certainty. His tongue sweeps up the cleft of my ass, circling the tight, sensitive rim with maddening skill.
“It’s… it’s wrong,” I whisper, my body trying to squirm away—ashamed of how it responds. But one firm hand holds me still.
I glance down, eyes meeting his.
He’s watching me from between my thighs, wild and unapologetic.
