Page 105 of This Life of Mine

I bite my lower lip, craving every inch of him.

This is not a body meant to be admired. It exists to do things.

A sensation descends, heavy and hot.

His gaze never leaves mine.

The room seems smaller. Warmer. Charged with something that’s been coiling all evening, tightening with every breath.

He unbuckles his belt and lets his jeans fall to the floor, stepping out of them without breaking eye contact. Then he steps closer, bracing his hands on either side of me—close enough for his warmth to reach me, but still giving me space. Still giving me choice.

When he leans in, and his mouth finds mine again, it’s slower this time. And I know whatever happens next isn’t about impulse or escape. It’s about want.

And God, I want him.

That’s when I notice his erection, thick and unmistakable behind his briefs. My mouth opens on instinct—an unguarded, silentwow sends afresh rush of heat between my thighs.

I lie back and start shimmying out of my shorts, with Alex helping me the remainder of the way. My legs are bruised and cut, marked by life—but he doesn’t look at them like that’s all he sees.

I’m left in black lace panties and my bra. My breasts spilling over, heavy and full with need.

He pulls me up to stand, kisses my neck softly, and unhooks my bra.

I hear the sound before I see his reaction bounce—a low, feral growl slipping from his throat as my breasts fall free. His breathing falters, his chest heaves, and I see him struggling to maintain composure.

“I don’t know how to be gentle, Lina,” he admits, restraint tight in his voice. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

“Don’t hold back with me,” I say, practically panting. “I don’t want you to be gentle.”

That’s all Alex needs.

He lifts me effortlessly, and suddenly I’m rising—higher than I expect—my breath catching as the world tilts. There’s no strain, no adjustment. Only strength with such certainty that it steals my sense of gravity.

I’m up high and leaning against the wall. My legs slide over his shoulders without effort, draping there. He holds me easily, hands firm at my hips, anchoring every inch of my weight. The awareness hits hard—how strong he is.

“Move your panties to the side, Lina,” Alex growls, voice thick. “I want to taste you. I need to.”

Before I can protest the position I’m in, I obey. My fingers shake as I shift the fabric aside, already soaked. His mouth is on me before I can swallow—hot, open, deliberate.

I cry out as his tongue slides through me, slow and unhurried, tasting everything. My hips jerk forward on instinct, pressing into his mouth, and he groans against me.

“Fuck, Lina,” he murmurs, lips brushing my skin. “You taste perfect.”

His tongue finds my clit. The sensation is immediate—hot and breathy. He sucks gently at first, then harder, watching my face as my body starts to shake. I fist my hands in his hair, tugging, panting, and moaning—unable to stay still.

“Fuck I love that sound,” he says, voice dark with satisfaction.

His mouth works me relentlessly—tongue circling, sucking, flicking—never losing rhythm. One hand leaves my hip to cup my breast, kneading it, thumb brushing my nipple until I gasp. His other hand rises to my mouth, fingers sliding up to my mouth.

I open without thinking.

I suck him in, tasting skin and salt, moaning around his fingers. He groans in response, the vibration sending another jolt through me as his mouth becomes more demanding—tongue relentless.

“That’s it. Keep moving for me, Lina,”

I rock against his face, needy and uncoordinated, pleasure building fast and fierce.

I’ve never felt so exposed but so alive.