“You’re beautiful like this,” he says against my skin. “Do you know that?”
I shake my head.
He kisses just below my ear, then bites lightly, soothing it with his tongue. “You should.”
Then he slides one finger inside me, and I cry out.
He groans in answer, his hand tightening on my thigh to hold me open while he eases it deeper, feeling the way I clench around him. “So fucking tight.”
His thumb never stops on my clit. The combination is too much too fast. I’m already trembling in his lap, already chasing his hand, and when he adds a second finger and curls them just right, I lose what little composure I had left.
“Viktor.”
“Again.”
My head falls back when he strokes that spot inside me.
“Viktor.”
“That’s it,” he says, kissing my throat, my jaw, the corner of my mouth. “Say it again when you come.”
I do.
He makes me come in his lap with his fingers buried inside me and his mouth on my neck, and it’s so sudden and intense I almost bite him when the orgasm tears through me. My thighs shake. My whole body jerks. He works me through it with a filthy kind of patience, like he has no intention of stopping just because I’m already shaking.
When I finally sag against him, breathless and wrecked, he takes my mouth again and kisses me until I can breathe properly.
Then he stands, lifting me with him. I cling to him automatically, arms around his shoulders, legs wrapping around his waist, and he carries me the few steps to the wide bench along the side of the cabin like I weigh nothing.
He sets me down and gets my skirt up around my hips, then kneels between my knees and just looks at me for a second. At my thighs spread for him. At my flushed face. At the damp mess he made between my legs.
The look alone almost makes me come again.
“Do you have any idea what seeing you like this does to me?” he asks.
I shake my head.
He kisses the inside of one thigh, then the other. Slow, open-mouthed kisses that make me shiver.
“These legs.” Another kiss. “These hips.” His hands spread over them, firm and possessive. “This soft stomach.” He palms it through my clothes with something like reverence, not judgment. “These tits.”
He gets my top open enough to pull my breasts free, and the look on his face when he sees them makes my breath catch.
“Perfect,” he says, and bends to take one nipple into his mouth.
I arch with a moan.
He sucks hard enough to make my thighs tighten around his shoulders, one big hand kneading my other breast while he mouths me like he could stay there all night. He switches sides and does it again, tongue flicking over the aching peak before he sucks and bites gently and has me squirming under him.
“You’re going to kill me,” I whisper.
He lifts his head and drags his thumb over my wet lower lip. “Not before I fuck you.”
The words make my cunt clench.
He stands and gets rid of the rest of his clothes quickly now, the patience finally giving way to hunger. His cock springs free, thick and flushed and heavy enough to make me stare. He catches me looking and smiles. “Too much?”
I wet my lips. “No.”