His laugh came out strangled.
I explored further. The ridges were firm but yielded slightly under pressure. The spur was jointed and capable of movement. When I brushed against it, he made a sound low in his throat.
“Does that hurt?” I asked.
“No.” His hand covered mine, stilling it. “But if you continue, this will end much faster than I want it to. I want to make you fall apart first.”
Heat flooded through me.
He pressed me back into the pillows, his body covering mine. His mouth found my neck, my collarbone, and the hollow of my throat. Each kiss felt like a brand.
“Tell me what you want,” he said against my skin.
“You.”
“I need something more specific.”
My brain scrambled.
“Your mouth,” I said. “On me.”
“Where?”
“You know where.”
His smile pressed into my shoulder. “Say it anyway.”
“Brovish—”
“Say it, Laina.”
I grabbed his hair, tugging until he lifted his head to look at me. “I want your mouth between my legs. Is that specific enough?”
“Much better.”
He kissed his way across my breasts, my belly, my hip bones. His hands slid my underwear down my legs and off.
Then he settled between my thighs, his breath warm against my center.
“Tell me if I do something you don’t like,” he said.
“I will.”
His tongue traced me, and he focused on what made me gasp, what made my hips lift.
I tried to stay quiet, but my moans and cries slipped out.
I gripped his hair tight, and when he rumbled against me, the vibration shot straight to my clit.
He stroked my breasts with one hand, rolling the nipples, while sliding a finger of his other hand inside me. His groan rang out, and he lifted his head.
“Damn, you’re wet. All this for me?”
I could only nod. I was too far gone, too far into this moment to speak.
The build came steady and relentless. His tongue circled, pressed, retreated. My thighs trembled. My breathing went ragged.
When I came, his name shot up my throat.
