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He gets higher, higher, higher—
His teeth scrape against my tender flesh.
They do it again and again.
There—
His lips brush my clit. It’s so soft I can barely feel it, but that only makes it more intense.
Then his fingers are curling into my inner thighs, and he’s pinning me to the counter, and he’s licking me from top to bottom.
Fuck.
My knees buckle as he does it again.
He pulls back to groan against my inner thigh. Looks up at me a mess of wavy hair and control and need.
There’s a promise in his eyes. That he’ll satisfy me as long as I trust him with my body.
And I do.
Fuck, how I do.
But can I trust him with my heart?
Does it matter if I can? It’s already his. I’m crazy fucking in love with him and there’s no coming back from that.
He pins me to the counter as he dives between my legs. He licks me with long, soft strokes. Then long, hard ones. Then short, fast ones. He goes harder, softer, left, right, up, down, there—
I tug at his hair. “Don’t stop.”
He groans against my sex.
Then he licks me just how I need him, just where I need him.
My back arches. My sweaty hand slips, but I catch myself.
I stay upright, my thighs pressed against his cheeks, my heels digging into his back.
These are heavy shoes. It must hurt. But I don’t fucking care. I don’t care about anything but his soft, wet tongue against me.
His nails dig into my thighs.
My hand knots in his hair.
“Fuck. Ryan.” A groan rolls off my lips. I squeeze my thighs against him.
Every flick of his tongue winds me up.
It takes me higher, higher, higher.
With his next lick, I unwind. All that tension unfurls in a wave of bliss. My sex pulses. Pleasure spreads through my pelvis, down my legs, up my torso, all the way to my fingers and toes.
Eve
ry part of me feels good.
Spent.
