“Are you sure?” She reached out and grasped his cock in two soft hands.
“Oh, fuck.” His hips jerked uncontrollably at the feel of her hands. Thoughts of spreading her out and licking and sucking and drowning in what he’d been missing fled his mind. He was nothing but the feel of her hands stroking his cock.
He felt like a gods damned wreck.
Her steel-gray eyes met his as she brought her lips to the head of his cock. Her pink tongue darted forth to stroke up the sensitive flesh. The sight was so hot his knees almost buckled.
“Gods, you doona have to.” The words were torn from his throat—the truth, yet laced with desperate hope that she wouldn’t listen.
Her answer was to envelop the head of his cock in the heat of her mouth. Unable to help himself, his eyes squeezed shut.
“I’m no’ gonna last.”
She sucked, made him jerk again, then drew away. “We’ll see about that. Lie down.”
He followed her down onto the bed, yanking the pants from his ankles and the socks from his feet. He let her push him onto his back. It’d been his plan to kiss her, stroke her, make her feel good. Show his appreciation for the gift she was giving him. He levered up on his elbows, tried to rise over her.
“Nay.” She grasped the iron collar around his neck and pushed him to his back.
His collar. It was unbearably hot, and unbearably fucked up, to be maneuvered by the collar. He shouldn’t like it, but fuck, he did.
“Let me take care of you,” she whispered at his ear.
A shiver shot down to his cock and a ragged moan escaped his throat. He watched her kiss her way down his chest, desperately trying to memorize the feel of her lips and tongue on his skin.
She ran her hands up his chest and over his shoulders.
“You’re so hot,” she said against his stomach.
Vaguely, through the heat of her mouth and the buzz in his mind, he was aware of pride. He wanted to please her, was glad she liked the way he looked, so different from his past self. But mostly his mind was on her. On her mouth, on her breasts, which brushed his throbbing cock.
His arms shot up to the headboard when her mouth neared his cock. His hands bit in to the wood when he felt the brush of her breath against the throbbing shaft.
Teasing, not alighting.
“Please.” The word broke from his throat as he looked down.
“Patience,” she murmured, her eyes meeting his. “You’re starving. This is like your first meal in a century. It could be fast and frantic or slow and decadent. Either way it’ll be over and gone. Will it no’ be better if it’s savored?”
A groan escaped his throat and he dropped his head back onto the pillow.
Her hot breath returned to his heated flesh, shivering over him until he had to grip the headboard to keep from thrusting up toward her mouth. He felt her hand slide up his chest.
“Give me your hand,” she said.
He let go of the headboard and reached for her. She took his hand and drew it to her head. Her soft hair tangled about his fingers.
“Show me what you like,” she whispered, then returned to his cock.
Her lips closed around him, hot and wet and soft and perfect. But she stayed still, waiting for him. Gods, he’d never pushed a woman’s head onto his cock before. Wanted to maybe, but it’d seemed damned rude.
Damn hot too, and knowing that she wanted it forced good manners and misgivings from his mind. His arm trembled as he pressed down lightly on her head. Watching his hand control her as she sank down onto his cock was insanely hot, made more so by the fact that she’d used his collar to control him just minutes ago.
She added her hand to the base of his shaft, a delicious friction that kept him from pushing too far. Together they found a rhythm, and soon his hips were rising off the bed, helplessly seeking her mouth.
Gods, she’d turned him into a fucking animal after all. Tension and heat and need coiled hard and fierce. He was so close—
She stopped. Withdrew her mouth a