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“Don’t come until I have my mouth on you.” He lifted a brow, almost smirking.
She looked up, her eyes catching his. “Mange-moi,” she whispered, and his smile widened.
He dropped to his knees, pushing her thighs apart as he pressed his mouth against her panties. “You only had to ask, sweetheart.”
Instead of taking them off, he pushed her panties to the side, giving her a long, sweet lash of his tongue. Her eyes rolled back as he licked her again, harder this time, his fingers reaching up, curling, as he pushed them inside.
She wasn’t going to last. She just wasn’t. It was too good, he was too experienced, he knew exactly what to do. Reaching for him, she put her hands on his head, whispering his name, as he ate her like he never wanted to stop.
It was almost too much. Her hips rocked in time to her moans, her fingers scraped his scalp. “Michael. I’m going to—”
“Come.” He wasn’t finishing her words. It was a command.
And oh God, itwastoo much. Way too much. Her senses hit overload, her back arching as she exploded into his mouth. Her body was on fire, jerking as he licked her, his lips sucking as she slowly came down.
But it wasn’t enough.
“I need you inside of me, Irish,” she whispered.
He smiled at the old nickname. Climbed up over her, kissed her, so she could taste herself on his tongue.
“This isn’t going to be my crowning hour,” he whispered against her mouth. “Or crowning five minutes. It’s been a while and I’m fucking desperate for you.”
“How long?” She stroked his hair.
“Since the last time.”
Oh. “Me too,” she said, her voice low.
And for a moment, they stared at each other. Silent. Understanding. And then he kissed her again. Softer, this time. So sweet it made her heart ache.
He reached for his pants and pulled a foil packet from the pocket. She took it from his hand and ripped it open, sliding the condom onto him. Needing him inside of her like she needed air.
He cradled her face, kissed her again, his hips sliding between her legs until he was there. Touching her. Ready for her.
And then he slid inside.
Her breath hitched. How long had she thought about this? About feeling him like this again? It was stupid, trying to fight it. Some things were too inevitable to stop.
He was a freight train. A tsunami.
And now he was inside of her. His thickness stretching her and making every part of her feel sensitive.
He stilled, as though knowing it was almost too much. “You okay?” he asked gently, stroking her hair.
She nodded. “Don’t stop.”
“You feel so good,” he murmured, his mouth on hers.
“Too good.” He moved his hips back then surged forward. She could feel herself flutter around him, on the edge once more. His chest rubbed her nipples, his hand slid down to hitch her thigh against his hip, his fingers dug into her skin in the most delicious way.
He was being gentle. Like he was afraid to break her. But she wanted to be broken. She wanted to come apart.
She wanted this man to make his mark on her.
“Take me harder,” she whispered against his cheek.
And he did. Pulled his hips back and slammed home. Again and again until she was dizzy and breathless. Her body was tight, alive, on fire.
