"I order you…" she said, her voice low, authoritative, each word a lash against my skin. Her eyes locked onto mine, the wicked gleam in them sending a shiver down my spine. "…to make me cum…"
She paused, her lips curling into a smirk, her fingers tracing the line of her thighs, teasing me, daring me. The way she said it—like it was a test, a challenge—made my cock jerk, my body begging to prove itself. "…with your tongue…"
The command settled over me like a weight, heavy and delicious. I didn't hesitate. I couldn't. The need to obey, to please her, was a fire in my veins, a hunger in my gut.
I watched, transfixed, as Marina lay back on the bed, her dress still ridden up to cover only her tits, her pussy and ass glistening with oil and arousal, exposed, begging for my touch. The sight of her—spread, wet, needy—made my mouth water, my cock pulse with the need to be inside her.
But first, I would worship her.
