Page 116 of The One Who Never Left: Colter

He didn’t bother with another word. He just lowered his head and dragged his tongue straight up her center. One slow, possessive lick and her head thunked back against the mattress with a choked sound.

She didn’t close her eyes. Fuck, no. Not his woman. She kept them open, fixed on him like she wanted to watch him ruin her.

Oh, she was a watcher? If so, then he was about to give her a front-row fucking performance.

He slid his hands to her knees, pushed her thighs wide, and buried his face between them, moving the pathetic scrap of lace aside with his nose. Then he started kissing—lazy and filthy, yet reverently—right over her soaked lips. Slow became greedy. Greedy became punishing. Tongue, teeth, lips—he devoured, teased, nipped until she was grinding against his mouth like she needed friction to breathe.

“I’m about to⁠—”

He slapped a hand over her mouth, her breath hot against his palm. Clearly not liking being told what to do, she bit down. Hard.

“Fuck baby, you can bite me anywhere you’d like, but remember the house has thin walls.”

She froze, eyes cutting down to him. “Quiet. Got it. Now faster—am I speaking your language?”

Jesus—he loved it when she got bossy like that. It went straight to his dick.

He slid a finger into her slick heat and she arched off the bed, a tremor ripping up her spine like she’d been plugged into a socket.

“More.”

He zeroed in on that spot and curled his fingers, tongue still circling her clit until her whole body locked up, muscles banded tight, pulse screaming toward detonation. Good wasn’t enough—he wanted her wrecked—so he slid in a second finger and drove deeper.

She was a beautiful mess—breathing hard, thighs shaking, voice shredded.

“Make me come,” she said in quiet demand.

He looked up at her like she’d just handed down a commandment. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Harder,” she ordered, tightening her legs around his shoulders.

He obeyed, thrusting his fingers faster, curling viciously against that spot.

“Now suck.”

He wrapped his mouth around her clit and sucked like she’d rewired his brain.

“More pressure.”

His fingers hammered. His tongue bore down.

“That’s it,” she breathed, sinking her nails into his scalp. “Don’t stop until I say you can.”

Like he ever would. He doubled down—lips sealed, fingers stroking, wrist working relentless circles—until her rhythm went ragged and she wasn’t breathing right anymore.

“Right there,” she choked out. “Do not move even an inch or—oh—” Her whole body bowed off the bed. Her thighs clamped around his head, locking him in place. “That’s it—don’t you fucking stop⁠—”

He kept his mouth on her, fingers driving until she shattered—coming hard, pulsing around his hand—a desperate, silent scream caught between her teeth.

He held her through every wave, licking her down gently when she finally sagged, limp and wrung-out, against the mattress—his favorite kind of ruin.

“That was fucking sexy,” he murmured, mouth brushing hers. Then he dipped down and stole a softer kiss, reverent and filthy all at once. “You’re fucking sexy.”

Her lashes fluttered, eyes a little glassy—wrecked in a way that made him go impossibly hard. “Around you I feel sexy.”

“Then stop hiding.”

And god bless her—she placed her folded arms behind her head and locked gazes with him like she was saying, “Come get it,” and he damn near growled.