He stopped me gently, brushing my hand with his.
“No,” he said, voice quiet but firm. “You don’t need to.”
“But—”
“Elle,” he whispered, “watching you come undone like that?”
His eyes searched mine, full of quiet wonder.
“That was enough for me.”
Something was building under my skin. Like a flaming need I couldn’t explain.
“But – what if I want to?”
“Elle – “
“Please.”
I ran my hand slowly down his hips, fingers grazing the edge of his waistband. He hissed at the contact, like my touch seared through him. His body shifted closer, the air between us charged, alive. His eyes met mine—bright with need, but soft too. Waiting.
The fabric of his pants strained, the evidence of his arousal unmistakable. I let my fingers drift lower, teasing the button open, then easing the zipper down—slow, deliberate, like every second mattered.
He sprang free—hard, flushed, and breathtaking. Bigger than I’d imagined.
Beautiful.
I swallowed, breath catching at the sheer ache of him—more than want. Almost wonder.
I wanted to know what he would taste like.
My fingers glided gently over him, slow and reverent. He gasped—a shuddering sound that tore from his throat as his hands gripped my hips, anchoring himself to me.
“Elle,” he breathed, voice hoarse. “Gods… just like that.”
And then I lowered myself and pressed my lips to his tip.
His skin was smooth, smoky and salty. He hissed at the feel of my tongue glazing his hard length.
I opened my mouth and took him inside. He shuddered and gasped, instinctively pulling me in closer so I swallowed more of him.
“Sorry –“ He gasped
I took him deeper, responding with my mouth like I could answer his need. My hands slid over the hard curves on his rear, shoving him forward. I pulled him to the back of my throat until I gagged, tasting every inch of him. He began to thrust in and out rhythmically.
“Gods I love you…Gods –“
I felt him twitch in my mouth. He held my head, bunching my hair in his fist.
“I’m not going to last long if you keep doing that!” he whispered, pulling me loose. He pulled my mouth up to his own and kissed me hard, his tongue swirling with my own.
He sank to the floor, pulling me with him, guiding me to straddle his lap. Our skin met in new, electric places. His hands roamed—my back, my waist, my thighs—hungry and hesitant all at once, like he couldn’t decide whether to worship me or devour me.
I leaned forward, pressing my forehead to his, breath mingling with his.
His hands were shaking.
So were mine.
