“No penetration,” he says.
Then his thumb strokes lightly over me.
My knees weaken.
“That is still unfair,” I whisper.
“That is the point.”
My back meets the cool tile. Jordan goes down in front of me, water running over his shoulders, his hands firm on my thighs.
“Jordan.”
“Hold on to me.”
I slide my fingers into his wet hair.
He lifts one of my legs over his shoulder and puts his mouth on me.
The world disappears.
There is only the water, the tile against my back, and Jordan licking me with slow, devastating focus. He avoids anything that makes me flinch and finds every place that makes me gasp. He uses his tongue over my clit, firm and patient, while his hands hold me open for him like he has all morning and every intention of using it.
I tremble.
He looks up at me.
“Eyes on me.”
My breath breaks. “Jordan.”
“Say it.”
My whole body burns. “Yes, sir.”
His mouth returns to me, and I come so fast I nearly sob, pleasure rolling through me while he holds me steady against the tile.
When my knees finally give out, he catches me.
He rises, wraps me in his arms, and lets the warm water run over both of us.
I press my face to his chest, breathing hard.
“I think this lesson needs a warning label,” I mumble.
His hand moves over my wet hair.
“You’ll get used to it.”
I lift my head. “I don’t think so.”
His eyes are dark, possessive, and far too awake for this early in the morning.
His thumb brushes my lower lip, still swollen from him.
“Breakfast?”
“Please.”
