Well, hell. My cock swells against my zipper. My kiss grows more feral.
She reaches for my dick, giving the hardened outline against my jeans a squeeze. I catch her wrist and spin her to face the wall, punishing her with a sharp smack to her ass.
She holds still like she’s waiting for more.
I hesitate. This is where I should pull back. Shove her out of the room and slam the door. But there was a certain satisfaction that came with slapping her ass. A release of the pent-up lust, frustration, and anger that had me ready to explode.
She certainly deserves a spanking after what she did.
I deserve this release.
I flatten both her palms against the wall and pin them with my left hand as I get busy slapping her ass with my right.
She gasps, squeezing her butt, but doesn’t break position. She likes it.
Godammit.
I rub the bulge of my cock against one of her buttcheeks as I squeeze and knead the other one roughly.
Her moan is one hundred percent female pleasure. I yank the hem of her dress up above her waist, furious when I see the little g-string tucked between her cheeks.
“Did you wear this for him?” I snarl, hooking my finger under the string and pulling up to cinch the fabric against her clit.
“No!” she gasped. “I wore it so I wouldn’t have panty lines with the dress, that’s all,” she rushes to explain. “And I wore the dress for you.” The second part is softer, and it slips in below my defenses, reaching down my throat to grip my heart and yank on it.
I slap her bare ass, watching my handprints bloom, needing the distraction from the effect of her words.
“I’m not yours to tempt,” I snarl, spanking harder than I mean to. I don’t want her dressing for me. I didn’t ask for that. I can’t fucking withstand my desire if she does that.
She yelps at the intensity, and I stop to rub. I step in close, needing more contact than just my hand on her ass. I grind my dick against her hip and slip one hand down her panties in the front and continue to knead her heated ass with the other. She keeps her hands against the wall like a good girl.
The catch of her breath hangs tender and raw between us. My finger parts her folds, and I find she’s dripping wet. Slick with arousal—as turned on as I am.
There’s no stopping now. Giving her a spanking without getting her off would be a form of abuse, and I’m not that guy.
So even though I shouldn’t, even though I’ve vowed never to take another woman, I curl my fingers, molding my palm around her mons and slipping my index and middle fingers into her welcoming channel.
“Dima,” she moans, like the temptress. A siren luring me to my demise.
She feels as sweet as I know her to be. I grind the heel of my hand over her clit as I deliver another spank to her backside.
“Dima.” The way she says my name will be my undoing. I’ll hear that needy, desperate rasp in my ears echoing when I try to sleep, when I shower, when I fucking breathe, until the day I die. I slide my middle finger under the g-string in the back to find her anus, pressing there at the same time I work her clit in front.
“Dima!” There’s shock in her voice, and her hips buck under my hands.
I work her from both sides, working my fingertip into her back hole as she undulates her hips to take my fingers deeper into her tight channel.
“I...I…” She comes all over my fingers, her muscles squeezing and releasing, her pelvic floor lifting, her anus tightening. “Oh my God!”
I close my lips against the string of praises I want to shower her with. Not that she doesn’t deserve them all. I have never in my life seen anything so spectacular as Natasha coming. But Natasha is not my lover. Not my girlfriend. Not my anything. To keep things from turning intimate, I remove my fingers the moment she’s done.
Almost as if she anticipated my hasty departure, she whirls the moment I do, reaching once more for my aching cock, heavy in my jeans.
“No.” I catch her wrist, but she’s already on her way down to her knees, and I suddenly stop, arrested by the sight.
By the idea.
She wants to suck me off.
I can’t let her. I definitely shouldn’t. But she’s already unbuttoning my pants, freeing my very painful erection.
And fuck, I’ve been hard for this girl since the moment I first met her.
I need this.
If I don’t let her do it, I won’t be able to stop thinking about it. It will cause me to make more stupid decisions when it comes to her.
Yes, I should just let her do her thing. Work this out of my system, so I can finally release it and let it go.
She fists my cock and licks around the head, teasing my skin with her tongue. A shudder of pleasure makes me sway on my feet. I need to gather her hair away from her face, so I can watch, so I can see the incredible spectacle of those pouty pink lips wrapped around my throbbing member. She lifts her gaze to my face as she sucks hard, sliding the head of my cock into the pocket of her cheek. I wrap her hair around my fist in the back and use it to guide her over my cock. She turns her head one way and the other, driving me wild.
“Fuck.” I’m already about to come. It’s been forever since I’ve had a girl’s mouth on me. Since I’ve fucked anything but my own fist. And dammit, for the last year, every time I have, it’s been with the image of her beautiful face in my mind. “Malysh.” I didn’t mean to let the endearment slip from my lips, but how could I not croon baby when she’s treating me like a fucking king? When she’s massaging my balls, then further back, seeking my prostate gland.
That undoes me. Remembering every excruciating massage I suffered through, imagining exactly this. How expert her small hands are at finding all the places I want them. How they’re magic now, tugging at my cock, making it long and thick on her tongue.
I shout, my balls drawing up tight, my thighs starting to quake. “Bozhe moi!” I shout, losing control. I hold her head in place and push in and out of her mouth, then pull out just before I come, intending to spill over my fist. She pulls my hips back, though, sticking her tongue out to catch my essence.
I can only stare in utter shock. Sweet, angelic Natasha with the friendly girl-next-door vibe just sucked my dick like a porn star. Knowing she’s had practice—quite a bit of it—makes me want to wring the necks of every guy she’s ever touched. Especially Alex—even though she swore she hasn’t had sex with him.
“Gospodi, Natasha.” My awed croak makes her lift her big green eyes to my face. Rather than well-deserved confidence beaming from her face, what I see is far more crippling to my already detonated will-power—naked adoration. She’s looking up at me like she thinks belongs on her knees at my feet, giving me the best blowjob of my life. Like worshipping my cock was a gift to her, not a punishment.
The guilt that soaks through me is crippling. Not just for my betrayal of Alyona’s memory but for toying with Natasha. She doesn’t deserve this.
I shove my cock back in my jeans and zip them, taking a step back. “Fuck. I shouldn’t have—” I break off, shaking my head. “I didn’t mean to do that.” I back toward the door, unable to avert my gaze from the disaster I made, based on the horrified expression on Natasha’s face. “I’m sorry, it was a mistake.”