He moves down the bed with deliberate grace, settling between my thighs. His shoulders force them wider, and the stretch feels decadent, filthy, cherished all at once.
He slides his big, protective hands beneath my ass, lifting me slightly, angling me exactly where he wants. Then he traces the crease where my thigh meets my body, back and forth, back and forth, until I am trembling.
“I can’t stop thinking about this,” he murmurs against the inside of my knee.
His lips brush higher, open-mouthed kisses that leave wet trails cooling in the air. “Waking up with your taste on my tongue. Starting the day buried in the sweetest pussy I’ve ever had.”
I whimper. Actually whimper.
He chuckles, the sound vibrating against my skin. “Love that noise. Make it again.”
Then his mouth is on me.
There’s no hesitation. No gentle buildup.
He licks one long, flat stripe from my entrance to my clit and groans like a man who has found water in the desert. The vibration shoots straight through me, making my back arch off the bed.
Slower, he does it again, taking his time, savoring.
His tongue circles my clit with devastating precision, then dips lower, pushing inside me, fucking me with slow, deliberate strokes.
I fist my hands in the sheets. My hips try to chase his mouth, but his grip on my ass is iron. In a relentless, Dominant way, he controls my every movement.
Moments later, he pulls back just enough to speak, lips glistening. “You taste better than I remembered. Sweeter. Like you’ve been saving it all night for me.”
I can’t form words. Only broken syllables that don’t even sound like me.
He seals his mouth over my clit and sucks, gently at first, then harder, flicking his tongue in quick, ruthless pulses that make my thighs shake against his shoulders.
Two thick fingers slide into me without warning, curling, stroking that spot that turns my spine liquid.
My head thrashes on the pillow. “Stryker, please?—”
He hums against me, the vibration brutal, and adds a third finger, stretching me open while his tongue works my clit without mercy.
The wet sounds are obscene and perfect.
I’m getting wetter, slick coating his chin, his fingers, dripping down to where his thumb presses teasingly against my ass.
He remembers. Of course he remembers how sensitive I am there, how insane it makes me when he plays with that tight ring of muscle while he eats me like he’s starving.
His thumb circles, presses, breaches just enough to make me gasp and clench around his fingers.
“That’s it.” His voice is a low growl against my pussy. “Come on my tongue, Lyra. Let me feel it.”
The orgasm hits me like a wave I never saw coming.
I cry out, hips bucking hard against his mouth, inner walls pulsing around his fingers as pleasure explodes outward in white-hot bursts.
Stryker doesn’t stop, just gentles his tongue, licking me through it, drawing it out until I am shaking and oversensitive and trying to twist away.
Only then does he lift his head.
His lips are swollen, shiny with me. His eyes are nearly black.
Slowly he makes his way up my body, towel long gone, cock heavy and leaking against my thigh.
I reach for him blindly, needing him inside me more than I need my next breath.
