Stopped hoping there was more.
Lowering my expectations became second nature. It was easier that way. If I didn’t want too much, then I couldn’t be disappointed when my body was treated like an afterthought.
But that’s not how it is with Laiken.
Everything with him is different.
He slows down instead of rushing, like there’s nowhere else he needs to be. His attention never feels scattered. It never drifts to himself or what he wants. When he touches me, it’s like he’s trying to learn my body, not claim a victory.
And the way he looks at me…
It’s like this moment isn’t something to conquer, but something that truly matters to him.
For the first time, I’m not bracing for what comes next. I’m not preparing myself to be disappointed or left behind in the wake of someone else’s satisfaction. I’m being met exactly where I am, as if my pleasure isn’t optional.
Like it might even be the point.
When he pauses between my thighs and looks up at me, he doesn’t assume. He searches my face, silently leaving the decision up to me. Almost as if my agreement matters more than his desire. The care in his eyes nearly undoes me, cracking something open that has been long sealed shut.
I nod, my throat too tight for words.
The shift in his expression is subtle but unmistakable as relief and hunger flash in his eyes. His fingers hook beneath the waistband of my panties, sliding them down my hips and thighs before dropping them to the floor. The gentle pressure of his mouth on my skin is heaven.
The heat of his gaze burns into me as he stares at my center. I can’t help but tremble beneath the intensity as it drifts over every inch. There’s something strangely erotic about being stripped bare while this stunning man looms over me, still wearing his boxers, control written into every line of his body.
“You really are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on,” he murmurs.
He caresses the sensitive skin of my inner thighs. Back and forth, his palms strum, the faint scrape of his calluses sending shivers through me. It’s such a small thing, such an innocent touch, and yet it’s enough to make my stomach tighten with anticipation.
Air clogs my lungs as he lowers his mouth again, his warm breath ghosting across me. The sensation alone makes heat coil tight in my stomach. I bite my lower lip, attempting to trap the sound building in my throat. It takes effort to hold myself together when every nerve in my body feels like it’s stretched too tight and waiting to snap.
Seconds tick by as he takes his sweet damn time, each one more torturous than the last, intensifying the anticipation until it becomes borderline unbearable. The heat of his mouth hovers over me without ever quite touching.
Just when I can’t take another moment, the velvety softness of his tongue laps at me. It’s a slow lick from the bottom of my slit to the top. I jerk beneath him, my fingers twisting into the sheets as sensation ignites within me. The intimacy and the shock of it is enough to leave me reeling.
There’s nothing rushed about his movements. It’s as if he’s deliberately trying to draw out my pleasure as he circles my clit. I get the feeling he enjoys watching me come apart one slow, measured caress at a time.
With a gasp, I arch off the mattress as even more sensation spirals through me, stealing my breath. It hits so hard, my mind blanks. I’ve never had someone make me feel like I’m worth the time or the effort.
The worst part is just how much I want it.
For a split second, panic flares, and I can’t help but wonder, if I allow myself to relax, will I wake up tomorrow regretting the decision? Will I be the one left staring at the ceiling again, unsatisfied, while he rolls away? My chest tightens as my body trembles on the edge of something that feels too good to be true.
Laiken lifts his head, his gaze fastening to mine. His expression shifts, and concern cuts through the haze. “Kia? Are you all right? Should I stop?”
The fact that he’s even asking, that he’s pausing to check in, is enough to dissipate some of the fear.
“No, please don’t stop,” I whisper.
He presses a soothing kiss against my thigh. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Instead of acting like my answer is a green light to proceed without caution, his touch remains steady and patient, as if he’s listening to my body in order to interpret each reaction.
He presses kisses against me, stroking me with his tongue. Each touch is gentle. His lips curve slightly when my muscles finally loosen and I arch, trying to press closer, seeking out more pleasure.
“Do you like the way that feels?”
