When I finally get them off and look at her, I understand what she meant.
Fuck.
She's soaked. Beyond soaked. Her light blue panties are so wet they've become see-through, clinging to every curve of her pussy. I can even see the outline of her lips. Her inner thighs are wet too, glistening with arousal.
I've never seen anything like it.
And I fucking love it.
She's this wet for me? This turned on just from kissing and touching? This is a dream, not a problem.
"What's wrong?" I ask, because her expression has gone uncertain. Embarrassed.
"Cole hated it," she confesses quietly. "Said I was always too wet. That it was gross. He'd complain about it constantly and made me feel like there was something wrong with me."
I’m fucking pissed. Cole complained about this? About Ivy being aroused, about her body responding naturally to pleasure?
What kind of fucking idiot complains about a woman being wet for him?
"Listen to me," I say, my voice hard with conviction. "This will never be a problem. Never. This is a luxury. A gift. The fact that you're this turned on, that your body responds like this… It's fucking perfect. Don't ever let anyone make you feel bad about it again."
Before she can respond, before the insecurity can take root, I act. I hook my fingers in her panties and pull them off, exposing her completely.
Then I dive in.
The first taste of her nearly stops my heart. She's sweet and musky and so fucking wet I could drown in it. I lick a long stripeup her slit, collecting her arousal on my tongue, and she cries out above me.
"Phoenix!"
I grip her thighs, spreading her wider, holding her open as I eat her out like a man starving. My tongue circles her clit, then dips lower to thrust inside her. She's clenching around me, her whole body trembling.
Her hands fly to my head, fingers tangling in my short hair, and I love it. Love feeling her lose control, love knowing I'm the one making her feel this way.
I focus on her clit, sucking it gently while sliding two fingers inside her. She's so wet they glide in easily, and I curve them upward, searching for that spot that will make her reach climax.
When I find it, she nearly comes off the bed.
"Oh god, oh fuck, Phoenix—"
I love hearing her curse. Love that she's letting herself be loud, be messy, be completely uninhibited. This is what sex should be: raw and overwhelming in the best way.
I work her relentlessly, tongue and fingers coordinating to push her higher and higher. Her thighs are trembling on either side of my head, her breathing coming in short gasps.
"I'm—I'm going to—" She can't finish the sentence.
"Come for me," I command against her pussy. "Let go, Ivy. I've got you."
She's crying out my name, her hands fisting in my hair hard enough to hurt, her pussy clenching around my fingers. I work her through it, gentling my movements as the waves subside, licking her clean as she comes down.
When she finally goes limp, I press a kiss to her inner thigh and look up.
She's gorgeous like this. Hair mussed, skin flushed, eyes glazed with satisfaction. Her chest is still heaving, breasts rising and falling, and there's a small smile on her lips.
"I've never—" She starts, then stops.
"Never what?"
"Never come like that before." The admission is soft, almost shy. "Cole never… He didn't do that. Didn't care if I enjoyed it."
