ELENA DUVAL
Dimitri's hands sank into my hair, forcing him deeper into my throat. “f**k, mia cara,” His groan curled up low in my stomach. “This feels so good,”
His eyes were closed, head ripped back to expose the strong tanned column of his throat. His chest rose and fell with shallow breaths; his muscles flexed every time I swept my tongue over the underside of his c**k.
There was something so heady about having someone like Dimitri at my mercy. I could either bring him over the edge or keep him there forever. His pleasure was entirely in my hands and the knowledge thrummed between my thighs with heavy intensity.
I increased my pace, my hands working in tandem with my mouth and just when I thought he would come, he fisted my hair with one hand and pulled my head back.
My noise of pr
