Page 67 of Born for Silk

He uses his thumb and forefinger to open my lips.

I close my eyes, unable to watch him staring so intensely at me there.

“Your hymen is perfect.” The warm tip of his finger slides around something strange and sensitive inside me, as though mapping the dimensions. “I don’t want to ruin this, but fuck. Fuck. I have to taste you.”

He moves. I hear it.

Then his hot mouth is on me, lips open and sucking at my centre while his thick tongue flattens and laps at me.

That does it. I drop to my back on a throaty cry, my legs spasming and shaking.

“Mine,” I hear the word rumble through me.

The overwhelming size of Rome, in comparison to me, has my pelvis pinned to the counter under his weight.

And the pressure.

Yes.

The pressure is everywhere I need it.

"Fuck. I've wanted my tongue inside you since that first day in the parlour."

Writhing, I reach for his hair and tug on it, pulling him away and pushing him down. “Is this— Is this normal?”

He reaches up with his other hand and wraps it around my throat, bracketing me to the counter and sending me a message—'Nothing will stop me.’

He uses his thick tongue to part the folds of skin that protect the place I've barely ever touched and never seen.

I open my mouth, moaning, my eyes squeezed shut, veiling the reality of where we are and what he's doing so inappropriately with my body. And how I want more of it. I'm insatiable with need for him.

I don’t know how long he licks and mouths me, or what sensation is what, or what my name is, but my ears are burning, and my spine feels like it might snap, and then?—

He turns his mouth and sucks on something higher than my opening, a bundle of nerves tightly pressed together.

Over and Over.

It feels like my bones seize-up, agonising and wonderful, like reaching out and touching death’s fingers without the pain, on the edge of something, a sensation that eclipses everything else.

I moan long and hard, writhing against his face. Shuddering, heart thrashing, feverish— Am I dying?

His tongue thrusts into me as I convulse around it.

Terrified of what is happening inside my body, my moans mix with whimpers as I ride the wonderful sensation despite my fears.

The pulsing, the electricity, the heat and tightness, slowly dwindle.

Bringing me down.

Lowering me.

Unfolding me.

When it’s all over, sweat mists my forehead and slides down my temples. My palms meet my face. I pant into them as he hovers over me, the heat from his body rolling along mine.

“You’re safe, sweet Aster. My sweet Aster with the sweetest pussy and the softest moans.”

“Is that what you felt?” I say, reeling from that otherworldly experience. “When I pleasured you?”