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Then vertically.
His pace stayed but the pattern changed as he sucked me into his mouth, flicking the end of my clit with his tongue, while he slipped two fingers inside me.
The combination was too much.
I couldn’t hold off the orgasm.
“You’re getting close. I can taste it.”
Just as I was memorizing his rhythm, it shifted.
Again.
He wasn’t going to let me come that fast.
Grayson liked having that control.
That he could send me over the edge whenever he wanted.
I squirmed from the sensations, unable to stay still, the pleasure far too much, and I tightened my grip on his hair, my other hand clasping the blanket beneath me.
It seemed every time I neared the place of no return, he would lower his tongue to my entrance to stop the build from happening. His fingers would slow. He would gather my wetness and lick back up, starting the process all over again.
I was breathless.
“What are you doing to me?” I gasped.
“I’m making you want it so badly, you can’t think of anything else.”
Except I was there.
I had been since the very start.
And I was positive he knew that. He was just overwhelming me with thoughts.
Needs.
Wants.
Because there was nothing in this world that felt as good as Grayson’s tongue.
“Please,” I begged.
My legs threatened to cave inward, my hips rocking, matching the momentum of his tongue.
And just when I reached a point where I couldn’t stop, something changed.
Something . . . felt different.
Something was extra soft.
A quick look showed me he was holding a rose petal between his teeth, rubbing it against my clit like it was his tongue.
“Oh God!” Although it wasn’t wet like his mouth, the feel of it, the silkiness, the softness, was incredible.
And it was enough.
More than enough.
