I’m in a cafe filled with coffee, cream, sugar. All the things I should be craving.
Yet, the only thing I want to taste is her.
Lila.
She’s pressed against the counter, lips swollen from my kisses, breath shallow, half-wrecked already.
I’m barely keeping it together.
My grip tightens on her thighs, spreading her open beneath me, my cock aching, throbbing, but it doesn’t matter.
Not yet.
Because I’m not done.
Because I haven’t tasted her.
The last time we were together it was our first time.
Our only time and as much as I’ve replayed it in my head. That night, that desperate, fumbling mess of firsts, it wasn’t enough.
I was young, too impatient. I barely knew what the fuck I was doing.
Now, I know.
Now I know exactly how to ruin her.
Lila shudders as my mouth trails down her neck, slow, deliberate, my fingers digging into the soft flesh of her thighs.
I nudge her knees wider.
She gasps, her head falling back against the cabinets, her fingers threading into my hair, gripping tight. She has no idea what’s coming.
I lower myself onto my knees.
A fucking sacrilege considering the woman in front of me has made a sport out of pissing me off. But this is exactly where I want to be.
Lila is trembling, her breath ragged, the anticipation tangling with the frustration she won’t admit. I run my hands up her legs, squeezing, feeling how soft she is, how warm.
She watches me, her lips parted, pupils blown wide.
I drag my mouth up the inside of her thigh, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss against the sensitive skin there. She jolts.
Fuck, she’s sensitive.
She was always like this, all fire, all attitude but beneath it?
She melts.
I look up at her, holding her gaze as I slide her dress higher, my fingers brushing over her bare skin.
“Ben…” her voice is shaky, almost unsure.
I hum against her thigh. “Relax, sweetheart. I’m about to make sure you never forget this.”
Then, I taste her.
Lila arches off the counter, a strangled sound ripping from her throat as my tongue flicks against her.
