Page 69 of His Nephew's Ex
I stare at him, breathless, uncertain. How can I be out of breath if I’m not even moving?
“Submit to me, stellina,” he says, and I’m helpless to deny the compulsion in his voice. “I’ll hold your trust close to my chest and keep your pleasure for my own.”
I’m too far gone to question his promises, to insist on holding part of myself in reserve the way I have for so long. Slowly, cautiously, I stretch my arms above my head and toward the headrest. Simeone leans forward, wrapping his belt around my wrists and securing me to the bed frame, his mouth a kiss-width from mine.
“So beautiful,” he breathes, his cologne and that tang of his clean male sweat. “So brilliant. So mine.”
He steps back, his fingers on the button of his pants. Everything unzips in a series of quiet clicks—the button, the metal teeth of the zipper, my focus. Or maybe that’s his. My skin hums with heat and need and overwhelming awareness, and I twist against the soft leather looped around my wrists in a parody of the dance we’re about to perform.
He takes off his pants, but leaves the briefs untouched. He’s hard, there’s no doubt about that, the length outlined in the soft cloth, and a sharp pang of need fires through my core.
“I’ll take off your underwear now,” he says once he’s wearing nothing but briefs, his voice rasping in his throat. “I want you fully naked.”
Hands curl around my waist, his fingertips catching and breaking lace with ease. A tiny gasp is wrenched from my lips as the scraps drift to the floor, and I buck my hips in a purely instinctual response.
“Just like that.” His hands capture my ankles, pulling me closer to the edge of the mattress, his tone no longer caring but insistent. “Open for me.”
I can’t refuse the hunger in his voice, the pure, fiery want reflected in his eyes. The anticipation makes me squirm. In the brief time we’ve been lovers, we’ve both taken our pleasure from each other with growing assurance, yet the idea of his ultimate claiming?
Instant aphrodisiac.
“Your bra too,” he says, moving up to reach under my back and release the clasp. The straps loosen around me, sliding down my arms. The blue silk melts into firelight as he lifts the underwear and stares at me intently.
Simeone’s cock is growing thick and hard now, tenting the cloth of his briefs so much that I want to reach out and stroke it. The thought warms me and embarrasses me at the same time. Something moves within me, then returns in the form of white noise, which makes its home in my head.
“What will you do to me?” I ask breathlessly, hearing the heavy pulse beat in my own ears. The sound makes me crazed.
“Whatever I want.” He stands above me, looking gorgeous. The firelight behind him glows red against his back, and the burnished orange licks along his hair, shimmering white gold in its glow.
Simeone gives me a small smile, its wickedness the only warning I get before he sucks my nipple into his mouth.
Fire. Heat. Need. Something hot unfurls inside me, and even though I try to squeeze my legs together in response, he’s between them, preventing any chance of success. With excruciating care, his tongue swirls along the aching peak and ends with a scrape of his teeth. The bite of pain intensifies the sweetness. My stomach folds against him with a soft moan, urging him on and eliciting another tight pull of his mouth. The sting becomes sharpness, focused pleasure/pain. He releases the painfully erect nipple, and something primal demands he take the other. Then soothe it.
And when he’s done with that, he goes to my other nipple, giving it the same level of attention. Over and over, his tongue and teeth drive me wild, leaving me a mass of heat and liquid and sensation. My nails cut into my palms, and I want desperately to stroke his scalp, command his touch. I struggle against the restraining, pulling at the belt, and crying out when my resistance is fruitless. He hears me, smiling, enjoying my efforts, my pleas, and my complete willingness to surrender.
“I’ll kiss you now,” he warns, “and I’ll suck your lips, your tongue. You are mine. Mine. Every inch of you. Do you understand that,stellina?”
I shake my head, but despite my denials, my eyes catch on his mouth, wanting to feel his lips against my lips, his tongue taking possession. I want to see the way he will own me without fear.
His thumb rises to caress my chin, his mouth hovering over mine. Giving me one moment to inhale, anticipate the fire that he is, the light that he offers. His thumb presses my chin down gently, and his mouth seals over mine.
Flame. Torch. Nothing will ever be the same. There is only passion. His mouth owns mine, and that heavy feeling between my legs urges me to grind up against him. Urges him for more contact, more friction. His hand cups my head, strong fingers threading through my hair, dragging the strands gently and baring my neck.
Not to be outdone, I lean in further, opening for his tongue, tempting him deeper. One of his knees eases over mine, dropping between my legs so his thigh pushes hard against the needy place there. A moan rips out of my throat. I can’t stop grinding against his leg, needing an extra push, a hint of the pressure I require, an action that might ease this ache.
He breaks our kiss, peering into my eyes. I stare at him, stunned, amazed at the flood of desire coursing through my veins. I had no idea, none at all, how much I needed, or wanted, or how insane his mouth could make me feel.
“Do you understand now?” he rasps, his own breathing ragged. “Do you know what I’ve been waiting to do?”
I nod, whispering, “Yes.”
“Good.”
The next kiss isn’t as deliberate, not as honed. It’s messy and raw, brutal and violent. My lips are his to take. Stab, stroke, sink. At times, I expect it to hurt, and it does. Only, it doesn’t, because the weight of him is my anchor, grounding me to the moment. His rhythm becomes my rhythm, matching his pace, his hunger, and his control.
He’s claiming me. And I’m letting him, encouraging him.
Our bodies are touching. Hot, tangled, pressed close. I groan into his mouth, and he grinds against my nakedness. Everything burns, there is no shelter for my heartbeat here. It tears through me, shreds my ability to think, and makes my muscles weak.
