“Can you take more? This is paradise, Evangeline. I need to know if you can take more.”

She slid her arms up his thighs and around, to grip his buttocks, pulling him into her. Her mouth suckled hard. Her tongue lashed at him and stroked the underside of his rim. He took that as a yes and surged into her, nearly out of control. He’d never had a woman work his cock like she did, his leopard would never have allowed it. His body belonged to her alone, and she made certain he knew it.

He heard himself swearing over and over in Russian. His shaft swelled. Went deep. “I can’t hold back, Evangeline,” he warned.

He didn’t want to stop. Not now. Not when it felt so fucking good. So perfect. She didn’t pull back and he couldn’t help his hips bucking, thrusting deep while he held her head in place. Her eyes never left his and she deliberately took him deeper. So deep. Her muscles massaged and squeezed. He swelled more as fire streaked through his body, rushed through his veins. Deep in his balls, his seed boiled and churned and then rocketed, jet after jet pulsing into her. She didn’t fight for air, but swallowed, massaging him even more.

She held his cock in her mouth, her tongue gentle. When he could finally breathe enough to withdraw, she followed after him, lapping at him. He closed his eyes, savoring the sensation and holding the vision of her on her knees, taking his cock down her throat, so that he could burn the image into his brain forever.

When he could, he reached down and lifted her, tossing her into the chair. The chair was wide enough for both of them to sit in. He caught both of her legs and placed them over the arms so she was spread very wide, completely open to him. He sank to the floor, lifted her butt into his hands, brought her to his mouth and without preamble, began to devour her.

Her cries had to be heard throughout the house. He loved the sound. He loved how there was no inhibition. She thrashed in the chair, but he clamped his hands on her, and his hands were large. His shoulders wedged between her thighs so she couldn’t move her legs from off the arms of the chair. He indulged himself in the taste of her. She tasted like she baked, all honey and cinnamon spice. He could eat her for breakfast. Or lunch. Even dinner. He definitely liked her for his midnight snack.