Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 92160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
"Good girl," he murmurs.
Mmm. I like that.
He wipes his thumb along my lower lip, collecting a streak of sauce, and holds it up like a dare. Without thinking, I lean forward and lick his thumb.
His breath hitches.
My tongue flicks along the calloused pad, tasting salt and grease. I mean to pull back after, but his free hand tangles in my hair and holds me there—his thumb slipping deeper, just past my lips.
"Messy little thing," he mutters.
I bite down on his thumb, just enough to make him feel it—and his control slips, just a crack. He drags it along my tongue before pulling away.
"You like teasing me," he says, low and dark.
"You like feeding me," I shoot back.
His smile is sharp enough to cut. "You’ve got no idea."
He picks up a fry next, dragging it slowly through the pool of ketchup, and brings it to my mouth. I take it—lips brushing his fingers, sucking the salt right off his skin. He watches, transfixed.
"More," I whisper.
He feeds me rice next, and I take it from his fingers, deliberately licking the grains off his skin one by one, my tongue tracing each knuckle. His breathing turns rough, his jaw tight. It’s messy and raw, and I’m loving every second.
"Careful," he warns.
"Or what?"
He shakes his head in response. “I won’t be able to hold myself back anymore, and we’ll have to skip dessert.”
His voice is all gravel and promise.
"Depends. What’s on the menu?"
I didn’t order dessert.
He grabs my ankles, dragging me down the couch until I’m sprawled beneath him. My shirt rides up, and his hand slides along my bare thigh, his thumb tracing slow, lazy circles.
Oh.
He bends his head and kisses me hard, licking into my mouth like he’s still feeding me—like he’s tasting the salt and grease and hunger right off my tongue. I moan into him, fingers curling in his hair, dragging him closer and closer.
His mouth leaves mine, sliding down my throat, teeth grazing my pulse before he drags my thighs apart and settles between them.
"Hands back behind your head again,” he growls. "And stay fucking still."
I obey, but my breath is ragged. My pulse races under his mouth as he kisses lower.
"You gonna lick me like you did the fries?" I whisper.
He flashes a wicked smile. "I’m gonna do a lot more than that, little ghost."
And then his mouth is on me, and I forget all about food.
He spreads my thighs, slow but deliberate, fingers digging into my skin just enough to make sure I know who owns me now.
"You were teasing me," he murmurs, lips trailing fire down the inside of my thigh. "Licking my fingers like you wanted to be fed something else."
My breath stutters, my hands aching to touch him. He notices.
"Keep them there," he orders, his voice sharp. My hips jerk, moving close to him, desperate for pressure, for him to taste me.
I let out a shaky exhale, arching slightly against the couch. He’s still fully dressed. I’m half-naked.
His mouth ghosts over the crease of my thigh, where the skin is sensitive. He bites, just enough to make my legs jerk. Enough to leave marks. I stifle a moan.
Matvei hums against me, as though he likes the way I react… like he’s already memorizing it.
He licks right next to where I want him, teasing. I feel my arousal dripping.
I won’t beg. Nope.
But oh my god, in my mind, I am screaming. I want his tongue, I need pressure, I need—
Ahhh.
His tongue flicks over the bite—soft, soothing, making me shiver—and then lower, pressing wet heat right where I need him most.
I moan. I can’t help it. My god, it feels like heaven.
Matvei groans against me, his grip on my thighs tightening like he wants to bruise me there and keep me spread open forever.
He works me over slowly at first, with long, lazy, torturous licks, his tongue flat and unyielding. I want to grab his hair and force him deeper, rougher. I want to make him lose control.
I know he’s waiting for me to break first.
He flattens his tongue and drags it up, slow and deep, one hand moving between my legs so he can curl his fingers inside me.
Oh fuck.
I whimper.
"That’s it," he praises, and fuck, his voice alone is enough to ruin me. "That’s right, little ghost. Let me hear you."
He wraps his lips around my clit and sucks, and I don’t just moan this time—I cry out.
Matvei growls in approval, pressing me down when my hips jerk. He’s holding me open for him, keeping me there so he can take his time.
I don’t want time. I want him to devour me.
"Matvei—"
He bites me again. Punishing.
It’s harder this time, right on the inside of my thigh, where no one else will ever see. Where only he will know.
I swear I almost black out. The pain, the pleasure, the possessiveness of it—it’s all too much and not enough.