I take my time, exploring him with my mouth and tongue. He grabs my head, urging me to go faster, but I don’t. I want to enjoy him, to savor him. Every gasp and moan, every twitch of his muscles, every shudder that travels through him. I take every reaction as a reward, each one spurring me to tease him further, to taste and touch until he’s a writhing mess beneath me. His pleasure is my pleasure, and I revel in it, savoring the intoxicating mix of power and intimacy.
“Tabitha,” he growls.
It’s a plea. A plea for release, but I ignore it. I’m not ready for this to end yet.
He bucks his hips, trying to set the pace, but I pull back, denying him.
“Jesus fuck,” he grits out.
I only smile, holding his gaze as I lick slowly up the underside of his cock. His eyes roll back, and a guttural sound tears from his throat.
I continue the teasing, the licking, every few strokes taking him deep into my throat.
He groans, grunts, pleads.
Until—
“Fuck, Tabitha, I’m going to… You’ve got to stop. I don’t want?—”
“Shh,” I soothe him, lifting my gaze to meet his. “Just let go.”
And he does.
He tenses, releases, and pulses inside my mouth. I swallow every drop of him.
Every single drop.
And I feel…ecstatic.
I release him slowly.
He’s a beautiful mess, hair tousled, breath ragged, a satisfied glow radiating from him. His eyes are filled with warmth and gratitude and something deeper. Something darker.
“Quid pro quo,” he says.
In a flash, we’ve traded places, and his face is between my legs.
A warmth fills me, and not just because of what he’s doing to me. Most men are done once they’ve finished. Not so with Henry. Not so with a generous, sweet, flawed man like Henry.
His mouth is hot and demanding, his tongue exploring me in ways that send shivers of pleasure rippling through my body. He digs his fingers into my thighs and holds me steady as he devours me with an intensity that leaves me breathless.
I gasp at the feel of his lips against me, at the way he teases and tastes with a hunger that matches my own. Every move he makes, every flick of his tongue, every nip of his teeth sends a new wave of pleasure crashing over me.
“Henry…” I moan, tangling my fingers in his hair, pulling him closer.
He responds with a low growl, his movements becoming more frenzied.
Every sensation is heightened, every touch amplified. It’s too much and not enough all at once. I’m lost in him, in us, in this moment of mutual pleasure and desire. Time is suspended as we move together, adrift in our own world.
When the coil tightens, I snap.
The climax rips through me, and words, so many words, leave my mouth.
I’m not sure what they are, only that I have no control over them.
Everything is a colorful kaleidoscope, a whirl of pleasure.
And when he shoves two fingers into my heat, I unravel once more.
