Page 12 of Captured By the Masked BRATVA
She shifts closer, tracing her fingers over my collarbone, slow and thoughtful. “Then teach me what you do know.”
Her voice is soft, but it’s the kind of invitation that leaves no room for hesitation.
And just like that, the calm between us fractures, heat blooming where peace had tried to settle.
She pulls the sheets away and strokes her fingertips over the tattoos on my chest, slowly moving down in a trail to where my cock is swiftly hardening.
“What do you want me to teach you?” I ask, my voice still gruff, but from arousal now as well as the night.
“I’ve never—” she trails off, looking away, and I hook my finger under her chin.
“There’s no shame here, not between us. Say it.”
“I’ve never done to anyone what you did to me,” she says with a defiant flick of her eyebrows.
I grin and the absurdity of how cute she is right now. “You mean you’ve never given head, a BJ, gone down on someone?” I tease. She bites her bottom lip and her nose crinkles as she shakes her head no.
“You don’t have to,” I say, leaning forward and kissing her.
“But I want to, if you like it that is. I mean if you don’t, I suppose that’s fair enough—”
Now I really laugh. “There’s not a man alive who doesn’t like receiving a blow job,” I deadpan. “If you want to give it a go, take your time, see how you feel and if you want to stop, you can fuck me instead.”
She takes a breath and lowers herself down, taking my hard length in her hands. “It’s bigger than I expected,” she mutters and I raise an eyebrow at her. “You know what I mean,” she harrumphs, then licks her lips, and that alone is enough to set my blood on fire.
Then she touches her lips to the tip, and the air whooshes out of my lungs. Her tongue swirls around the head and I relax back into the pillows with a soft groan.
“Am I doing it wrong?” she asks, worry creasing her brow.
“No, you’re not doing it wrong,” I manage, and she bows her head and gets back to it. Her inexperience is obvious, but feels good. She takes me as far as she can into her mouth, flicks her tongue up and down the shaft, takes her time learning what makes me feel good.
By the time I’m throbbing with the need to empty my balls, I pull her off my cock and into a sitting position above me.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, my cock nestled in the slippery heat between her folds. She rocks her pelvis and lets out a moan.
“Nothing, I’m just close to coming and I want to feel your sweet pussy again.” I lift her up and line up my cock, stroking it up and down her slit and over her clit before pushing it inside her. She groans as I guide her down, her hands coming to rest on my chest. “If you rock your pelvis backwards and forwards, it will feel good for you.”
She does as I say immediately, then asks, “What feels good for you?”
“Your tight cunt feels good for me whatever you do,” I manage to say from between gritted teeth.
I watch her slide up and down my shaft a couple of times, her slick juices coating me, then she begins to rock back and forth and I lift my gaze to her glorious tits.
“Open up your arms,” I say. The view of her tits pressed together is amazing, but I’m desperate to see them bounce as she rides me.
She leans back, holding onto her own thighs as she moves back and forth relentlessly.
“That’s it, ride me harder, just like that.”
It feels unreal. The tight, slick heat of her cunt milking me with every pass. Her head drops back and I know she’s close. I reach for her nipples and pinch them lightly, feeling the bounce of her full tits under my hands. I’m so close to busting my nut, and then it happens. She comes violently, the orgasm tearing through her making her shudder. Her rhythm stutters and I blow my load deep into her hot pussy. She doesn’t stop moving until her orgasm passes completely and she hunches forward, hands back on my chest, face slack with calm, our mixed juices leaking from her down the underside of my still-hard cock.
Elena
“This night is insanely surreal,” I finally say, Artem’s cock still nestled between my thighs.
“It’s not nighttime anymore, Elena,” he replies, dragging a finger down the centerline of my breast, over my nipple and under the curve. “Don’t move yet,” he adds when I begin to lift myself off him. “I like the view.”
I roll my eyes but smile despite myself.
