He trailed his lips down her long neck, resisting the urge to kiss her. He didn’t trust himself, knew if he allowed his tongue to dive into her mouth, his body would want to follow suit. Knew his cock would want entry into her hot, wet mouth, knew it would want to bury itself inside her pussy even more than it already did.
He wasn’t sure he had the discipline to resist.
“You’re so beautiful, Kira. But you know that, don’t you?”
Her head rolled to one side, giving him better access to her neck. He could feel her nipples, erect and begging for his mouth, pressed against his chest, even through the thick fabric of his shirt.
He trailed kisses across her collarbone and let his hands travel across her shoulders and down to her breasts. He thumbed the hard little peaks through her bra and was satisfied when they hardened further.
He reached behind her and unzipped her dress, then slid it off one shoulder to reveal a perfect breast, the nipple visible through her black lace bra.
One of her hands moved down his chest, reaching for his pants.
“Are you begging for my cock?” he murmured against her breast.
She withdrew her hand. “No.”
He chuckled against the swell of her breast and pulled aside her bra. It was cold out, and he let the chill air settle on her skin for a moment before sucking the cold nipple into his mouth.
Her head dropped back, and he felt the ends of her hair tease his hand, pressed against the small of her back.
He sucked the nipple, pausing to lap at it, murmuring as he worked. “I’m so ready to lick your pussy, Kira. So ready to taste you, to work your clit with my tongue, to make you come with my mouth. I bet you're so fucking wet right now.”
A strangled sound escaped her mouth, and he slid one hand under her dress, up her leg, using a feather-light touch on her inner thigh.
“Would you like that?” he asked. “Would you like me to lick your pussy?”
She swallowed hard enough that he heard it, but she didn’t answer. He slipped a hand inside the scrap of lace that covered her mound and pressed his thumb against her clit.
It took every ounce of control in his body not to slide his fingers through her folds, not to plunge them into her. Or better yet, to turn her around and plunge his cock into her.
Instead he made slow circles on her clit, his mouth still working the erect bud of her nipple.
“I know you’re ready for me,” he said as her body tightened under his hands and mouth. “I know you want to come.”
She didn’t speak, but her pending orgasm was evident in the way her breath came faster and more shallow, the way she pressed against the fingers working her clit.
“All you have to do is beg,” he said softly, moving his mouth to her other nipple, closing his mouth on it though the lace of her bra as he stilled his fingers on her clit. He couldn’t give in, no matter how much he wanted to. She had to beg. “Just tell me you want it. That you want my mouth on your pussy, my cock inside you, and I’ll make you come faster, come harder, than you’ve ever come before.”
There was a long pause, and he thought she might be ready to give in, that she might actually beg for him.
“No.” He barely heard the word, but there it was.
He withdrew his hand and mouth and straightened, rearranging her dress so that it covered her. When he straightened to look at her, he found her face utterly transformed by her desire, her eyes brighter than usual, lips and cheeks flushed, hair a tumble of waves around her face.
He gave her a small nod. “Thank you for a lovely dinner, a lovely evening.”
Her jaw set in anger. “You’re a bastard, Lyonya Antonov."
He smiled and reached for her hand. “I’m not the one in control, Kira. That’s you.” He leaned in and whispered against her ear. “For what it's worth, I can't wait to bury my face in your pussy, to give you my cock. Just say the word.”
He straightened and lifted her hand to his mouth, turning it over, opening her fingers. He watched her face as he pressed a kiss to the center of her palm.
“Have a good evening, wife.”
His body let out a primal howl as he walked away from her, but he forced himself to keep going. It didn’t matter how much he’d enjoyed the evening. How much he’d enjoyed her.
And it didn’t matter how he came to his name.
He was the Lion. He was her husband.
Kira would have to know it, would have to embrace it, before he took her to his bed.
No matter how much he wanted her now.