CLAUDE
His lips found mine again, then my jaw, my throat—all the while whispering, "I'm sorry."
I wanted to stop him, wanted to silence the guilt in his voice, but when he slid lower, when his mouth closed around my n****e, the words caught in my throat, lost in the sharp pull of pleasure.
"Nikolai—" His name broke from my lips, my fingers threading through his dark hair, tugging him closer, needing more. Every inch of my body ached, burned, begged to be touched by him, and I pushed at his shoulders, dragging him back up.
His gaze locked onto mine, dark and unreadable, and I didn't hesitate. "I want you," I said, voice rough with need.
He watched me for a second too long before he said. "There's no lube, Claude." His forehead pressed against mine, his body tense, his c**k
