Page 44 of Vital Signs

I increased the pressure, rolling the sensitive peak between my fingers until his eyes rolled back and he bit his lip.

Mine, some primitive part of my brain whispered.Mine to touch. Mine to learn. Mine to keep.

"Harder," Misha ordered, and I obeyed, giving him exactly what he asked for. He rewarded me by muttering something devastating in French.

Another shiver ran through me at the sounds. My free hand moved instinctively to palm my still-soft cock, frustration building behind my ribs. My jaw clenched. Eyes squeezed shut.

"Stop." Misha caught my wrist, pulled my hand away from my cock. "You don't need that."

"I want to be hard for you."

"I know, chéri." He brought my hand to his mouth, kissed my knuckles. "But right now, I want your mouth on me. Can you do that?"

I blinked, pulling back from the edge of frustration. "Yeah. Yes."

"Bon garçon." Misha leaned back against the pillows, letting his legs fall open in invitation. "Show me what that pretty mouth can do."

I kissed down his throat, his chest, following the cherry blossoms with my tongue. His hands found my hair as I kissed lower, not pushing, just resting there. Grounding himself or me, I wasn't sure which.

When I reached the waistband of his jeans, I paused. "Show me what you like."

Misha sat up slightly, hands going to his button and fly. He worked them open slowly, giving me time to change my mind. When he hooked his fingers in his waistband, he paused, meeting my eyes.

"I'm a nurse, remember?" I said. "I know anatomy."

Something flickered across his face. "It's different when it's—"

"I know." I covered his hands with mine. "Tell me what you like. What feels good. I'll follow your lead."

His shoulders dropped. "Yeah. Okay."

Misha yanked his jeans and boxers down in one motion. Something silicone tumbled out onto the bed between us.

"What the—" I blinked at it, then understanding hit. "Oh."

"Fuck." Red flooded his face. "I forgot I—" He grabbed for it, but I was closer.

I picked up the packer, turned it over once. "Impressive."

"Shut up." But his mouth twitched.

"No, really. Good weight. Nice detail work." I tossed it toward the counter, where it landed with a thud. "Very realistic."

"I hate you."

"No, you don't."

"No," he agreed, still flushed but grinning now. "I don't."

The moment could have turned awkward, but it didn't. Just another layer stripped away.

He was hard and flushed, cock swollen and slick. My mouth went dry.

"Fuck," I breathed. "Look at you."

I leaned forward, breath hot against him. This was Misha, exposed and waiting and letting me have this.

I used my tongue first, testing. When I dragged my tongue across the head, his hips bucked.