Page 65 of The Pakhan's Secret Babies
He sits on the edge, and I slide down to my knees between his legs without being asked.
He’s still half-hard, his cock heavy and flushed against his thigh. It has thick, long, and prominent veins running along the shaft. The head is smooth and already glistening from our earlier release.
I wrap my fingers around the base and feel the warmth of him, the solid weight that always stretches me so perfectly.
I lean in and slowly take him into my mouth. My tongue swirls around the head first, tasting the mix of us, then slides down the underside as I suck gently. I look up at him the whole time, watching the way his silver eyes darken as he watches me.
His hand rests lightly in my hair. His fingers thread through the strands, stroking softly.
I take him deeper, hollowing my cheeks, savoring the way his thighs tense under my palms. I use one hand to stroke the part I can’t fit in my mouth, twisting gently on the upstroke. My other hand rests on his hip, feeling the strong muscle there.
Roman’s breathing grows rough again. He lets out a low sound of pleasure when I swirl my tongue around the sensitive head.
I pull back for a moment, still stroking him with my hand, and reach down to cup my breasts through my shirt. They’re fullernow because of the pregnancy, heavy and sensitive, spilling softly over my fingers. I squeeze them gently, letting out a small sigh at the feeling.
Roman’s eyes follow the movement. His voice is low and warm. “Let me help you with that.”
I release his cock and lift my arms. He leans forward and slowly pulls my shirt up and over my head, then unhooks my bra and lets it fall away. My breasts spill free, full and heavy, the nipples already tight. He looks at me with open hunger and something softer underneath.
“Come here,” he murmurs.
I lean forward again, taking his cock back into my mouth. This time he cups my breasts with both hands, lifting and squeezing them gently.
His thumbs brush over my nipples, sending sparks straight down between my legs. He plays with them while I suck him, rolling the sensitive peaks between his fingers, tugging lightly until I moan around his cock.
The sensation is incredible. I take him deeper, sucking harder, my head bobbing slowly as his hands work my breasts. He groans my name softly.
After a while, he guides me back slightly. “Let me fuck them,” he says, voice rough with want. “I want to feel these beautiful tits around me.”
I nod, breathless. I push my breasts together, creating a soft, warm valley. He stands just enough to slide his thick cock between them. The sight is obscene and intimate at the same time.
His hard length disappears between my full curves, the head nudging against my lips with every slow thrust. I keep my eyes on his face as he moves, fucking my tits with long, deliberate strokes. His hands cover mine, helping me hold them together, his thumbs still teasing my nipples.
“You look so good like this,” he murmurs. “So soft and full for me. Fuck, Elena.”
The praise makes the heat pool low in my belly again. I lean my head down and lick the head of his cock every time it slides up toward my mouth. He groans deeper, his hips moving a little faster but still controlled.
When he gets close, his breathing turns ragged. “Elena… I’m going to come.”
I keep my breasts pressed together. He thrusts a few more times between them, then pulls back just enough.
Warm, thick streaks of cum spill across my chest, my neck, and my lips. Some land on my tongue as I open my mouth for him. He groans long and low, his hand still cupping one of my breasts as the last pulses leave him.
I look up at him, lips and chest glistening. He reaches down and wipes a streak from my cheek with his thumb, then brings it to my mouth. I lick it off gently.
He pulls me up onto the bed beside him, his movements slow and careful. We lie down together, and he tugs the sheet over us. He pulls me against his chest, and I tuck my head under his chin, my soft curves pressing warmly into his harder body.
The lamp is still on, casting its soft glow over us. The room holds a quiet that feels full and settled.
My eyes grow heavy. I fall asleep with his arm wrapped securely around me, the steady beat of his heart under my cheek, and the warm, sticky evidence of what we just did still drying on my skin.
He’s gone when I wake up.
I lie still for a moment and look at the ceiling and listen to the penthouse being quiet around me, and then I get up, pull on a robe, and go to the kitchen.
Irina is at the counter wiping down the surfaces, and she looks up when I come in and holds out a mug.
“Mr. Petrov made this before he left,” she says. “He said to leave it for you.”
