Page 45 of Vital Signs

"Like that?" I pulled back just enough.

"Oui, fuck—don't stop." His hands tangled in my hair, grip firm. "More pressure. Suck me."

I took him in my mouth, sucking hard while my tongue worked the underside. Misha's moan went straight through me, sharp and wrecked. Would have made me hard if my body would cooperate. Instead, I just ached, frustrated heat coiling tighter.

"Good, that's—putain, Hunter—" French started breaking through. "Your fingers—need you to—"

I pulled off with a wet sound. "You want me inside you?"

"Oui, maintenant." Dark eyes, pupils blown. "Now."

I slicked my fingers, traced down.

"Yes, fuck—" His head snapped back as I pushed one finger in.

My mouth on his cock and my finger pressing deep made him shake. I added a second finger, working him open while I sucked harder.

"Oui, mon loup." He switched to French, words spilling out fast and low.

I crooked my fingers hard, pressed up. His whole body seized, back bowing off the bed.

"You like that?" He yanked my hair, forcing me to look up with his cock still in my mouth. "Getting off on it when I speak French."

My eyes rolled back.

I pulled off to gasp, "More. Keep talking."

"Greedy." He shoved me back down. French poured out harsh and commanding.

The meaning didn't matter. The sound alone wrecked me. I worked him harder, letting my teeth scrape just enough to make him hiss.

"Fuck—" He switched to French again, voice cracking. His grip went brutal in my hair, whole body coiling tight. "Close—"

I sucked harder, tongue working while my fingers twisted inside him. His body clenched hard as he came, hips jerking, thighs shaking around my head.

I kept going until he shoved me off, oversensitive.

I sat back, mouth wrecked, chin wet. The frustrated ache between my legs had turned sharp, humiliating. All that want with no way to release it.

"Come here." Misha hauled me up, kissed me rough and messy, then murmured something in French against my mouth.

I shuddered. Even not understanding, it still worked through me like a live wire. "Keep talking, or I'm going to lose it."

"Already lost it." His hand dropped between us, found me soft and useless. "Poor baby. All worked up with nowhere to put it."

"No." The word came out bitter, frustrated.

"That's okay." Misha traced patterns on my chest, following the dragon's scales. "We have all night, and there are so many ways to make you fall apart without your cock working properly."

My breath caught. "What—"

He leaned down, teeth grazing my ear. "I'm going to wreck you, mon loup. Going to take you apart until you're begging."

My whole body shuddered. "Please."

"Please what?"

"Touch me. Keep talking French. Just—" My jaw clenched. "Fuck, please."