"Good."
He takes his time in a way that should be illegal. The heat of his mouth, the slow drag of his tongue, the soft wet sounds filling the room as he works me higher and then pulls back before I can finish. He holds me right at the edge and keeps me there until I am shaking and my knuckles are white on the headboard and I am entirely past the point of pride.
"Please." My voice breaks. "Please, Colsar, I need you?—"
"I hear you." He does not speed up. "But I'm not done."
"I'll be good, I swear, just please?—"
He drives his tongue deep inside me and holds it there, unmoving, his grip on my hips turning to iron, refusing me even the smallest shift. The heat of his breath. The slick warmth of his mouth. The muffled sound of him groaning against me like he is the one being undone. He is drenched in me and I feel it everywhere: on his skin, down his jaw, his cheeks, his throat. And still he doesn’t stop. He presses deeper. Then his voice comes, rough and wrecked and wanting.
"I want to drown in you."
Only then does he pull back and replace his tongue with his fingers. He blows lightly against the sensitive place just above, where I ache the most for him. His teeth graze me lightly and my whole body trembles.
"Beg," he says calmly, slowly pumping his fingers.
"Please, Colsar?—"
"Be specific."
He presses deeper, his mouth hovering just above where I want him.
"Please let me come on your face."
He continues to pump as I throw my head back into a moan.
"Do you belong to Teorin?"
"No."
"Hurstinal?"
"No."
"Sevrin?"
"Never."
"Not good enough," he says, and stills his hand.
"You," I gasp. "I am yours. Only yours. I will never be anyone else's." I lean back, gripping his thighs, grinding myself on his fingers, desperate for relief.
"Fuck," he mutters. He adds a third finger and begins pumping his hand again, this time deeper than before, though still his mouth is not where I need him.
Just as I think I cannot bear it any longer, his mouth closes in on my center, sucking relentlessly.
The sound that tears out of me is not quiet.
He keeps going until I am trembling, until my thighs are shaking against his grip, until a second one rips through me before I have finished with the first. The sounds I make, the slick sounds of him against me, the creak of the headboard under my hands, the low rough noises he makes like he is consuming something he has been denied for far too long, all of it fills the room and I stop caring about any of it.
Only then does he ease me onto my back.
He hovers above me, his face soaked, his jaw and cheeks and throat glistening with me, and he looks at me like he has no intention of wiping any of it away.
His eyes drag over me slowly, taking in my swollen belly, my full breasts. “You thought I wouldn't want you like this," he says. His voice is wrecked. "And yet I have never wanted you more."
He kisses my belly. Then he drives into me in one hard thrust and the breath leaves my body entirely. “The way you grip me." His voice is rough, barely holding together. "You feel even better than our first time."
