Thirty Days To Ruin

Chapter 5: On Your Knees

The hot water continued to cascade over them. Alexander turned Elena so her back pressed to his chest, one arm locked around her waist while the other slid between her thighs again. His fingers found her still-swollen folds, gently washing away the thick mixture of their releases only to replace it with the clean, slippery glide of soap and water. Every pass of his hand made her hips twitch.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured against her wet hair. “Good. I want you to feel every place I was inside you.”

He shut the water off, dried her with a large black towel in slow, thorough strokes, then wrapped another around his own hips. Still naked beneath the towel, Elena followed him into the open kitchen of the penthouse. Floor-to-ceiling windows showed the city far below. He lifted her onto the cool marble island as if she weighed nothing and stepped between her spread knees.

“Open.”

She parted her lips. He fed her pieces of ripe strawberry first, then soft bread, then thin slices of cheese, his fingers lingering against her tongue each time. When a drop of juice ran down her chin, he leaned in and licked it away. The simple act of being fed while still throbbing between her legs felt more intimate than anything that had happened in the bed.

“Swallow,” he ordered softly when he pressed a glass of water to her lips. “All of it. You’re going to need your strength.”

Once she had eaten enough to satisfy him, Alexander stepped back, dropped the towel from his hips, and pointed to the floor in front of him.

“Knees. Now.”

Elena slid off the island. The marble was cold against her bare feet. She sank down onto the hard kitchen floor, the stone cool against her knees. His c**k hung heavy and half-hard in front of her face, still marked with the faint scent of her and the shower. He reached down, gripped a fistful of her damp hair, and guided her forward.

“Thank me,” he said. “With that pretty mouth. For every load I left inside you this morning.”

She opened for him. The first slide of his c**k over her tongue was thick and warm. He pushed deeper in slow increments, letting her adjust to the stretch of her lips and the weight on her tongue. The taste of him—clean skin, salt, the lingering musk of their earlier s*x—flooded her senses. She hollowed her cheeks and sucked, the wet, rhythmic sound of her mouth working him filling the quiet kitchen.

Alexander’s head tipped back for a moment. A low groan rolled from his chest. Then he looked down again, eyes locked on hers, and began to thrust in shallow, controlled strokes.

“Deeper,” he ordered. “I want to feel the back of your throat.”

Elena relaxed her jaw and took more of him. The head of his c**k brushed the soft tissue at the entrance of her throat. Her eyes watered. Spit ran down her chin and dripped onto her bare breasts. The wet, glucking sounds of him f*****g her mouth grew louder, more obscene. He held her head steady with both hands and used her, slow and deep, watching every tear that slipped down her cheeks.

“That’s it,” he praised, voice rough. “Look at you. My virgin paralegal on her knees in my kitchen, choking on my c**k like she was made for it. You’re going to swallow every drop I give you this time.”

He f****d her mouth harder. The wet slap of his hips against her face mixed with her muffled moans and the soft, desperate sounds she made each time he pushed into her throat. Her own arousal dripped down her inner thighs onto the floor. She reached between her legs without thinking, fingers circling her c**t, desperate for relief.

Alexander noticed immediately. He pulled out of her mouth with a wet pop, a string of spit still connecting her lips to the head of his c**k.

“Did I say you could touch yourself?”

She shook her head, breathing hard.

“Hands behind your back. Interlock your fingers. If you break position, I stop.”

Elena obeyed. He guided his c**k back between her lips and resumed the deep, steady thrusts. The new restriction made every sensation sharper. She could only take what he gave her—thick inches sliding over her tongue, the stretch of her throat, the taste of pre-c*m coating her mouth. Her empty p***y clenched around nothing, aching.

When he finally came, he buried himself deep and held her there. Hot pulses flooded her throat. She swallowed convulsively around him, the thick, salty taste of his release sliding down. He stayed locked in place until the last throb faded, then slowly pulled out. A final strand of c*m connected her swollen lips to the head of his c**k before it broke.

“Open,” he said. “Show me.”

She parted her lips. He inspected her tongue, then nodded once in satisfaction.

“Good girl. Clean me.”

Elena licked him thoroughly, tasting the last traces of himself and her own spit, until he was clean and already starting to harden again under her tongue. Only then did he lift her to her feet and carry her back toward the bedroom.

He laid her on the edge of the bed, legs spread wide, and knelt between them. His mouth sealed over her p***y without warning. The first long, slow lick from entrance to c**t made her cry out. He ate her with the same focused intensity he had used on her mouth—sucking her swollen c**t, tongue f*****g into her still-tender hole, tasting the fresh arousal that kept dripping from her. The wet, hungry sounds of his mouth filled the room. Her thighs trembled on either side of his head.

He brought her to the edge twice and backed off both times, keeping her right on the brink until she was begging in broken, breathless pleas. Only then did he stand, line himself up, and drive into her in one deep thrust.

The stretch was immediate and overwhelming. He f****d her hard and steady, the wet slap of their bodies loud and rhythmic. One hand pinned her wrists above her head. The other gripped her throat lightly, thumb stroking the side of her neck while he pounded into her. Every thrust dragged against the sensitive places inside her. She came hard around him, walls fluttering and clenching, and he followed with a deep, possessive groan, flooding her once more.

He stayed inside her afterward, forehead pressed to hers, both of them breathing hard.

“You’re not leaving this penthouse today,” he said quietly. “I’m going to keep you like this—full, sore, marked. When I decide it’s time, we’ll deal with the doctors. Until then, the only thing you’re going to think about is how many times I can make this body come for me.”

Elena’s eyes fluttered shut. Outside the glass walls the city kept moving. Inside, she was already aching for the next round.