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I press my lips to the inside of her knee and get harder when she sucks in a little gasp. I take my time, licking my tongue up the inside of her thigh, and fuck, the slick heat of her is already there, waiting.
When I lower my mouth to her clit and taste her, the whimper she makes goes through me in a line of heat.
I work my tongue through her wet pussy in long, unhurried strokes, learning her with the same patience I use for anything worth taking apart.
What makes her hips jerk. What makes her thighs clamp. What pulls the loudest moans from the back of her throat.
This woman doesn’t give herself permission to want things easily. I know that much about her. Every little whimper she makes because of me is something she didn’t mean to give me, and it drives me on, needing to hear her break.
When she tries to grind against my mouth, I press my forearm flat across her pelvis.
“Don’t move.”
“Fionn,” she hisses it through her teeth.
“No”
Her fingers dive into my hair when I push two fingers inside her.
She makes a dirty moan I’ve never heard from her before. Raw and open, and entirely unguarded. Her pussy clenches around my fingers, and I work them deeper, slow, curling until I find the angle that makes her breath stutter on the inhale.
“You like that right there, don’t you,” I say against her.
“Yes,” she moans. “Fuck, yes, there. Don’t stop.”
I close my mouth over her clit and set a pace, my fingers working, tongue steady until she starts to shake. Her thighs clamp at my ears and the grip on my hair sends a shiver down my spine.
I let her have it. Let her come apart breathing out my name while I keep my mouth on her clit until her torso’s lifting off the mattress.
My lashes flick up, and our gazes snare.
Her chest is heaving, thighs trembling with a look on her face that I know she doesn’t mean to show me.
I spit on her pussy to keep it wet and rise to my knees, climbing over her, pressing a knee into the mattress between her thighs, and catch her wrists before she can reach for me.
“Not yet.”
“Fionn.”
My name in this woman’s mouth is like throwing gasoline on a fire. I lower my lips to her throat and graze the wild pulse beating there.
She arches beneath me, pushing her breasts into my chest.
I press her wrists into the mattress beside her head and drag kisses over the bruises I’d left earlier. Her skin is hot everywhere. Responsive too.
“Do you know what you do to me?” I ask against her skin.
Her fingers curl under mine.
I lift my head and hold eye contact. “Do you?”
“No,” she whispers.
“You make me want you.”
The admission comes out rough and honest.
For a heartbeat, she stares at me. “You make me want ya, too.”
