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“No,” he says. “No more talking tonight, unless you’re screaming my name or begging me again.”

He swirls his tongue over my clit, and I groan. “You’re a bastard.”

“Every time you talk is one more time that I take you to the edge and leave you there, so we have to start all over.”

After yesterday, I know enough to know that he’s not kidding. I bite my lip to keep myself from speaking again, and sink into the bliss of his mouth on me, exactly the way I wanted him yesterday. I was right that he would taste me.

Fucking hell, he’s good at this. I shouldn’t be surprised. Long, slow licks that cover all of me before centering his efforts over my clit and driving me toward the peak. My hips arch up to his mouth like he has a magnet in his tongue. I can’t control how wet I am or how much I want him, it’s already a done deal.

Caleb’s fingers dig into my thighs and spread my legs wider. I’m so close to coming that my voice is leaking out in moans that I hope he won’t count as speaking. Glorious, delirious pleasure…that’s suddenly gone.

He’s lifted his mouth away from me and let it all collapse into nothing. Just like he said he would. I grab the sheets in frustration, keeping my mouth shut and my words contained. Because I don’t want him to do that again. I don’t think that I could handle it.

My husband’s low chuckle whispers across my skin, and just the sound of him makes me wetter. If our nights are like this, I’m not entirely sure that I’ll survive one month of marriage.

When he’s satisfied that I’m nowhere near my orgasm anymore, he starts again. This time with the softest brushes of his tongue on my clit. A press of lips, and barely more than a breath. Kisses to my inner thighs that make pleasure sink through my skin and that unnamable heat build in my core again.

Every touch is slightly more. Harder. Faster. Drawing me upward with him until he’s feasting on me like he’s a dying man and I’m his last meal. I’m careening recklessly toward an orgasm and no matter what he does, this time I don’t think that I’ll be able to stop. He pushes two fingers inside me, hooking them up and grazing the rough patch that makes stars burst in front of my eye. His tongue works in tights circles, and the combination of that and his finger inside me have me speeding toward my orgasm.

It hits, and I feel shattered. Pleasure spikes through me, rolling through a peak and pulling me down into spasms and something so deep it feels hard to breathe. I think I make sound, but I’m not sure. All I can see is white, arching into Caleb’s still-licking mouth. My back lifts off the bed and my fingers grip Caleb’s hair, holding his head in place. I don’t want his mouth to move from my pussy. Not yet.

The waves subside and leave me completely spent. I lay back on the bed and when I can see again, the sight is almost as amazing as the orgasm.

Caleb is naked—the first time that I’ve seen him that way—and it’s better than I could have imagined.

The powerful legs that I experienced yesterday build to slim hips that frame his cock. It’s fully hard, and without the boxer briefs it looks even larger than it did yesterday. I want to feel it again, that delicious fullness.

He has those lines that curve down from his abs that every woman craves, pointing in the direction of the promised land. Above that, abs that seem like they go on for miles, and a chest that gives me no doubt about why he could swing that sledgehammer the way that he did. I blink. For a moment, I’m not entirely sure that he isn’t made out of marble and that I’ve been transported to a museum.

And his eyes, watching me take him in. Dark with lust. I can imagine myself from his view, spent from an orgasm, messy and wet, spread on his bed for him to claim. The thought in itself makes me shake with anticipation.

Caleb rolls on a condom, and crawls up my body slowly, leaving a shivering path with his tongue. He kisses me when we’re face to face, long and slow and deep before pushing into me in one long stroke.

He stays still for beat, and continues kissing me. The kiss is like velvet, and I feel its heat and passion flow to every nerve in my body. My hips start moving on their own accord. The desire between my legs can’t be ignored. I tip my hips and feel his cock moving ever so slightly inside of me. It feels amazing but I want so much more. He pulls his face from mine and reaches down between us. My clit, still so sensitive from my orgasm, is slippery under his finger. And as he strokes me, he starts to slowly fuck me. I feel every inch of his cock as it drags out of me, and then just as slowly he enters me again. The pace is torturously, deliriously slow. As much as I want to scream harder, faster, I don’t dare speak. His deliberate and controlled movements are stoking a fire inside me. I feel my toes and fingers crackle with electricity, and a fullness starts to bloom between my legs. I’ve never experienced this before. Like a slow tidal wave washing over me. From deep inside my orgasm builds. Subtle at first, but definitely there. And as he picks up speed, the feeling grows. The intensity is only matched by its duration, and I feel like I’m transported outside my body.

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