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her eye makeup, down her cheeks, beneath the line of her eye. She still faced the mirror. He rose, got to his feet and walked across the room, sitting down in the huge black leather armchair that faced his bed. It was from Domus, sleek and sublime, suspended artfully on a graphite frame. Violetta turned, saw him. "Come here," he said, quietly. The fire cast shadows over her breasts, her curves, accentuating them, highlighting them, like chrome made flesh, over-realized, like the bold primary strokes of the Liechtenstein. The bold primal strokes of his cock. "I should wash my face," she murmured, kneeling down on the carpet before him like a languid house-pet. "No," Blaise said, abruptly. "Dont." His hand reached out to cradle the back of her head, and she inclined it against his hand, smiling slyly. "Did you want something?" she asked, her hand alighting on his thigh. Blaise cocked his head, smiling faintly. "I always want something." The need in his loins had dulled to a low drone, like underground wires, just beneath the surface- Ready to be unearthed. All the warning signs were there. "You dont really think I would leave it at that, without getting mine." Violetta slid her arms around his waist. She kissed his stomach. Blaise sighed. His cock ebbed with slow pulses of blood, tingling with renewed arousal. "I want to suck your cock," Violetta whispered. He lowered his eyes to look at her. "Do you?" he said, coolly. He was somewhat surprised, although he did not betray this. Pauline and Cynthia and Lindley and Ashley and Patricia and Melanie- they would all go down without a fight- but he would never go so far as to say they wanted to. Violetta said nothing, deliberately taking him in her hand, as if to prove her point. He lurched to life in her grasp. Blaise smiled. "Then suck it," he said, calmly, setting his wineglass aside. He watched her with indolent eyes as she ran her fingers up the shaft, lightly, causing little tremors. Blaise let his eyes trace her lips, already flushed from the brief but ardent abuses of his mouth, flushed from arousal. It gave a deeper undertone to her shell-pink lipstick, the vestiges of which still clung brightly to her lips. He had not kissed her hard, or enough, to vanquish it. Her mouth parted and he breathed in, ever so slightly, at the sight of her little pink tongue, its sweetly pointed tip. She descended, her tongue flicking over his cock, outlining it, from head to shaft and back again, circling the head in a taunting swirl. Both cruel and kind- he liked her approach. Not unlike his own. Blaise leaned back, holding her languidly under the cool graces of his sleepless eyes. Rapt, Violetta leaned forward and took the head of his cock between her lips, pressing the flat of her tongue against the hot, fevered skin. He caught at his breath. Her eyes grazed upward, over his body, until she met his gaze. She paused there for a mere instant, before plunging down and taking in the length of his shaft, swathing it in her mouth,


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and deeper. Buried softly in her throat, Blaise could only exhale and work his fingers gently against her head, encouraging her. She smiled diminutively, feeding on his reactions like a latter-day succubus, moaning as his body clutched, watching the revolutions of his breath for clues, determined to unravel his desire. Blaise was unraveling, there was no doubt about that- shedding his skin like a snake, his strings breaking one by one, ripping open, slowly, like her shirt had- deconstructed. Was that it? Yes, that was the word shed used. He was beginning to understand it, now. She had found a rhythm that pleased her- circling the head with her mouth and tongue, then driving down- up, circling, driving down- and he let his head fall back, imprisoned by the circuit of motion, the reliable jolts of sensation that assaulted him with each scalding strike of her mouth. The flesh of his loins felt hot and liquid like melted wax, dissolving under the intense heat of pleasure- everything, all of it- all but his cock, which struck up, solid as stone from the midst, like an obelisk to channel the sun. An iron fist in a velvet glove. Violetta purred around him, around his flesh, indulgent. He exhaled, gripping the arm of the chair in his hand, creasing the supple leather. "Ill devour you," she whispered, slowly releasing his cock. "Do you want it?" "Are you fucking kidding?" he demanded, his eyes bright and lustrous. She laughed. He stroked her jaw, ran his hand back over her head, seizing her hair, gentle but firm. "Swallow it." Blaise guided her back to his cock, pushing her down, slow, insistent. Her mouth slowly covered him, like warm honey, yielding to the force of his hand, his arm- the inevitable re-entry of his cock. She looked at him, and he saw the smile in her eyes, a bare trace. Christ, she made him hot. Violetta was through fucking around. She began to slam his cock, fiercely, thrusting her mouth down. He watched her, breathing through his teeth. Her hand found his balls and curled around them, stroking, pulling. She had a way of undulating her neck, massaging with her tongue as she sucked him off- that and her hands, all centered on his cock, veered dangerously close to ecstasy. Blaise liked ecstasy, but on his terms. This was entirely something else, a territory unknown to his nature. Violetta was dragging him, slowly, inexorably, toward the brink. Breathing in, Blaise looked down at her. Calm settled over him. "Im going to come," he intoned, shuddering, running his hands through her hair, stroking it. "Id like to come in your mouth. Can I do that?" Violetta was, of course, unable to answer, absorbed in pleasuring him. Instead she renewed her onslaught, fiercely working his cock- deeper, faster, closing around him, a velvet Venus flytrap, spurring him towards his release. It came on a down-stroke- he came, as her mouth descended- and he felt all the heat gather and flare, all the molten sensation in his loins drawn up, into his cock, through it, imploding, exploding, shattering- Through his cock. Through his cock, liquid mercury- Both burning and freezing, shooting