I slide one finger inside her.
She gasps. Her hips jerk up.
“Oh god,” she breathes.
“You’re so tight,” I mutter.
I curl my finger, finding that spot inside her. The spot that will make the cramps stop.
She whimpers. Her hands fist the sheets.
I add a second finger. I pump them in and out, scissoring them, stretching her.
She moans. It’s a sound of pure relief.
“Does that feel better?” I ask.
“Yes,” she gasps. “Yes. Don’t stop.”
I don’t stop.
I move my hand faster. I can feel her walls clenching around my fingers. I can feel the slick dripping down my wrist.
I need to taste her.
I settle between her thighs. The scent is overwhelming here. It’s intoxicating.
I drag my tongue flat against her slit, and she screams.
It’s a broken, ragged sound. Her hands fly to my hair, tangling in the strands. “Billy!”
I feast on her. I lap up the slick. I suck on the swollen bundle of nerves. I fuck her with my tongue.
She’s writhing beneath me. Her thighs clamp around my head. She’s riding my face, chasing the pleasure.
I can feel the orgasm building in her. Her muscles are trembling. Her breath is coming in short, sharp pants.
“Come for me, baby,” I growl against her skin. “Let go.”
She shatters.
Her back bows off the bed. A wail tears from her throat. Her walls clench around my fingers, rhythmic pulses that pull me deeper.
I work her through it. I ease the pressure. I kiss the inside of her thigh.
When the tremors stop, she collapses back onto the pillow.
She is crying. Silent tears run down her face. But she looks relieved. The pain in her eyes has faded, replaced by a drowsy exhaustion.
I sit up, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. My jaw is wet with her.
I reach for the towel and clean her up again.
She watches me, her eyes heavy. “Thank you,” she whispers.
I nod. I can’t speak. My cock is throbbing in my jeans.
I lie down next to her. I don’t get under the covers; I just pull her into my arms.
