His Fingers
LILIANA’S POV
The moment my bedroom door clicks shut, everything changes.
I don’t even get a chance to breathe before my back hits the wood, hard enough to rattle the frame. A gasp tears from my throat—but it’s swallowed instantly, devoured by the heat of Ronny’s mouth crashing down on mine.
The kiss is nothing like the one in the ballroom. That one was a cover, an act meant to protect us. This… this is raw, unrestrained, scorching. His lips claim mine with a hunger that has my knees trembling, his tongue forcing past my lips, demanding, taking, tasting like he owns me.
I whimper into his mouth, the sound muffled, needy. My hands instinctively try to grab at him, but he catches my wrists mid-air, pinning them high above my head against the door. The power in his grip makes me shiver, the dominance of it curling heat low in my belly.
Pinned, breathless, I moan into his mouth as his tongue sweeps over mine, greedy, merciless. He groans deep in his chest, the vibration rumbling against me, and the sound alone makes my toes curl inside my heels.
God, I never thought kissing could feel like this—like being consumed, devoured, burned alive from the inside out.
And then I feel it.
Hard. Thick. Pressing insistently against my stomach through the barrier of our clothes.
My pulse spikes, my head spinning, my entire body tingling with a wicked kind of excitement.
Oh my God.
He’s hard for me.
The thought alone has me clenching around nothing, my thighs pressing together desperately, my body begging for friction.
I moan again, louder this time, shameless, and his grip on my wrists tightens. He tears his mouth from mine, dragging hot, ragged breaths across my cheek as his lips trail lower, down the side of my jaw to my neck.
“Ronny—” My voice breaks, a helpless whisper.
He doesn’t answer. His only response is a groan, muffled against my skin, as his teeth scrape over the delicate curve of my throat. The sharp sting of his bite makes me yelp, but the sound melts into another moan as he sucks the spot, pulling hard enough to leave a mark.
A mark.
He’s marking me.
The thought makes my head spin, my thighs trembling.
His mouth trails lower, hot kisses searing across my collarbone. His free hand tugs at the strap of my dress, sliding it down my shoulder, baring skin inch by inch. My breath comes faster, ragged, and then—
The fabric slides lower.
My breast spills free.
No bra.
The cool air hits my bare skin for only a heartbeat before his mouth is there—hot, wet, relentless. His lips close around my nipple, tongue circling, flicking, sucking.
I cry out, arching helplessly against him, my wrists still trapped above my head. My back scrapes against the door, but I don’t care. The only thing I feel is his mouth on me, his teeth grazing, his tongue teasing me into madness.
“Ronny,” I moan, his name breaking from my lips like a prayer and a curse all at once.
He groans again at the sound of it, the vibration buzzing against my sensitive flesh, making me whimper and writhe. My fingers curl uselessly above me, aching to tangle in his hair.
Finally—finally—he lets one of my wrists go. Instantly, my free hand flies to his head, gripping his dark hair, holding him to me. I bite down on my lower lip, my body trembling as I tug at him, begging for more without words.
He gives it to me.
His mouth is ruthless, switching from one breast to the other, his tongue painting fire over my skin, his lips sucking, biting, teasing until I’m gasping so loudly I don’t even recognize my own voice anymore.
And then—just as my head tips back in surrender, his mouth leaves my chest.
I want to whimper at the loss, but I barely have time before his lips crash back onto mine, urgent, desperate. His hand finally releases my other wrist, but before I can touch him, his hand slides lower.
Down my waist.
Over my hip.
And then lower still.
My dress is bunched around my thighs, my body trembling as his fingers skim higher, slipping beneath the flimsy edge of my thong.
Oh God.
I jolt when his fingers brush my clit, an electric shock of pleasure shooting through me so sharp I almost lose my balance.
“Ronny—” I gasp, but his arm wraps tight around my waist, holding me up as his hand moves.
Slow. Circling. Teasing.
He rubs me in tight, deliberate strokes that have my body arching against him, my hips rolling shamelessly into his touch. I can feel how wet I am already, how slick I’ve become for him.
He groans, low and rough against my ear, as though he can feel it too.
“Fuck,” he mutters, voice strained. “You’re so wet for me.”
I moan at his words, the filthy truth of them unraveling me even more. I don’t even try to hide the way I’m shaking, the way I’m clutching at him. My fingers dig into his shoulders, holding on as though I’ll fall apart without him.
And then—
He pushes two fingers inside me.
The intrusion is sudden, shocking, and my cry splits the air before I can stop it. My knees buckle, my head falling forward against his shoulder.
“Oh my God—Ronny—”
His mouth swallows my gasp, his tongue plunging deep as his fingers do the same. He sets a relentless rhythm, pumping into me, curling just right, hitting that spot again and again until I’m practically screaming into his kiss.
Every moan, every whimper, he swallows like it feeds him, his lips glued to mine as though he can’t let me go, as though he doesn’t want to miss a single sound I make.
I’m unraveling fast. Too fast.
The coil inside me tightens, tighter, tighter, until I’m trembling so violently I can barely stand. My nails dig into his shoulders, my hips rolling helplessly against his hand.
“Please,” I gasp into his mouth. “Please—don’t stop—”
He doesn’t. He gives me more. Harder. Faster. His palm grinding against my clit as his fingers thrust deep, his tongue tangling with mine, stealing the air from my lungs.
And then I’m gone.
The orgasm crashes over me, violent, shattering. I scream his name against his mouth, the sound muffled but desperate as wave after wave tears through me. My entire body clenches around his fingers, my legs trembling, my breath breaking into cries of pleasure.
It feels endless, this fall, this high. His arm holds me up, anchoring me as I convulse against him, every nerve set ablaze, every sound ripped from my throat swallowed by his kiss.
When it finally ends, I collapse against him, limp, shaking, my forehead buried in the crook of his neck. My chest heaves, dragging ragged breaths into my lungs, the air thick with sweat, lust, and something I can’t name.
He holds me there, his face buried in my hair, his breathing just as rough, just as uneven.
For a moment, I let myself melt into him, into the safety of his arms, the aftershocks of my orgasm still trembling through my body.
And then—
Suddenly, he stiffens.
He pulls back from me, his hands dropping away, his jaw clenched tight. His eyes are dark, stormy, conflicted.
“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, voice harsh.
My heart skips, panic slicing through the haze of pleasure.
He mutters it again, louder this time, raking a hand through his hair as he stumbles back a step.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
