Page 30 of Claimed By the Enemy
I take her in slowly. Her breasts are full, nipples already hardened. I run my thumbs over them, light at first, then with more purpose. She gasps, spine arching forward, mouth parting with a sound that slips past her lips before she can stop it.
I bend to take one nipple in my mouth, my tongue tracing slow circles, then pulling tight with suction. She whimpers and fists my shirt. Her thighs tense around me, her body leaning into the touch like she’s chasing more.
“Fuck,” she whispers, her voice fraying.
I move to the other breast, slower this time, letting my teeth graze the peak before I soothe it with my tongue. Her hands find my shoulders, grip tightening with each flick of my tongue, each warm drag of my mouth. She’s breathing faster now, and I know what she needs. She’s so close to begging, and the thought drives a low groan from my chest.
I trail kisses lower, along the flat of her stomach. Her thighs part without a word, and I settle between them. She’s in just the lace panties now—sheer black that does nothing to hide how soaked she is. My fingers curl beneath the waistband, slow and deliberate.
She lifts her hips.
I slide the panties down her legs, watching them drag along her thighs, past her knees, and to her ankles. She kicks them aside, bare now, open and waiting.
I glance up. Her hair is a dark halo around her face, lips swollen, chest rising in quick, uneven breaths. Her fingers grip the edge of the table, knuckles white.
I lower my mouth.
The first pass of my tongue earns me a broken sound from her throat.
She tastes like heat and salt and something so addictive I never want to stop. I lick her again, slower this time, then flatten my tongue against her and press deeper.
She gasps my name, hips jerking. I grip her thighs to hold her still and dive in.
My tongue works her clit in soft circles, then flicks. I feel her tremble. Her thighs close around my head, then open again, desperate and uncoordinated. I don’t let up. I drag my tongue down, tease her opening, then return to the bundle of nerves that’s already throbbing against me.
She cries out. One hand flies into my hair, gripping tight, anchoring me there.
“Dom, don’t stop—don’t you dare stop.”
I groan into her, the vibration making her jolt. Her heels dig into the table edge; her body twists under the intensity of it.
When I suck gently—just enough—she starts to come apart. Her legs stiffen. Her hips lift. Her breath vanishes completely.
And then she shatters.
Her cry echoes off the cellar walls. Her hands clench in my hair. She rides through it, using my mouth, taking me. And I let her. I devour every second, every sound, every wave of her pleasure until she collapses against the table, boneless and breathless.
I stand slowly, dragging my mouth up her stomach, across her chest, back to her lips. Her body is trembling, flushed, and open. She kisses me again, tasting herself on my mouth.
I grip her jaw gently, holding her there. “You’re mine tonight,” I murmur. “All of you.”
She nods, and it’s not resistance anymore. It’s fire.
I step back just enough to unbuckle my belt. Her gaze drops, watching every movement as I drag the zipper down and shove my pants lower. My cock springs free, hard and pulsing, and her breath catches again.
She reaches for me, wrapping her fingers around my length. I hiss as her thumb brushes the sensitive underside, her grip confident but slow, teasing like she knows exactly what it does to me.
“Sophie.” My voice comes out low, almost broken.
She looks up at me, chin tilted. “Yes?”
“You keep doing that, and I’m not going to last.”
“Maybe that’s the point.”
Her palm tightens, and I lose the ability to think. I grip her hips, lift her just enough, and pull her to the edge of the table. Her legs fall open again, her core still wet and aching from the orgasm I just gave her.
I guide myself to her entrance, dragging the head through her slick folds. She whimpers when I nudge against her, the sound raw and needy.
