It doesn’t.
He drops to his knees, and his strong hands grip my thighs as he places them over his shoulders and shunts the fabric of my dress to my hips.
I melt into him, his mere touch turning me into jelly.
“Oh, I’ve missed you, old friend,” he says against my wet panties.
“Zach, you’ve got to stop talking to—”
It’s all I get out before his mouth is on me, and his tongue is pushing my G-string to the side.
I can hardly breathe as his fingers work into me and his tongue teases my clit.
It’s filthy. It’s obscene. It’s so Zach—and I've missed it more than I should.
So good. It feels so good.
He doesn’t tease me or build me up. He just...
Flick. Flick. Flick.
Then his tongue flattens, and my breathing hitches as the pleasure builds.
Flick. Flick. Flick.
He sucks my clit into his mouth before sucking hard enough to make my knees buckle. For the first time since we walked inhere, I take my hands off the vanity so I can grab fistfuls of his hair just to stay upright.
When he moans into me, the vibration shoots straight up my spine.
“Zach—” It’s half a plea, half a warning.
The blunt edge of his finger’s thrusts into me so quickly, I can't talk. I can barely breathe because I feel so full. So. Damn. Full.Of him.
He curls them just as he starts to thrust, making the muscles in my stomach pull tight. My head hits the mirror, and I’ve lost all sense now.
“Zach—fuck—”
He groans, the sound rolling through me. He drags his tongue up, slowly at first, tasting everything. Then he seals his mouth over my clit.
I’m nearly there, which is embarrassingly quick, but Zach’s always known how to push my buttons.
My thighs shake; I can barely breathe.
“Come on my tongue,” he growls, the words muffled against my pussy. “Want to taste how much you still need me.”
It hits. Hard. A full-body snap that rips through me like my nerves are sparking under my skin. I gasp, my chest heaving, my vision blurring. My knees buckle, but he holds me up with his grip on my thighs, keeping his mouth exactly where he wants it, licking every aftershock right out of me.
After the comedown, he rises slowly, his eyes locked on mine, his lips swollen and glistening with me.
He doesn’t wipe his mouth.
Instead, he drags his tongue across his bottom lip, savoring me. A low, satisfied sound rumbles in his chest when he tastes me again, and without warning, he crashes his mouth against mine so I can taste myself on him.
“That’s you,” he murmurs against my lips. “All over me. Exactly where you belong.”
His hand is on my jaw, guiding my mouth back to his. I melt into the touch even though I shouldn't.
Old habits die hard.
