She held my gaze, unashamed, her lips curving in a faint, wicked smile that made my blood surge.
“Your turn,” she said, her voice husky, a command that matched mine. “Take off your clothes, Silas.”
I smirked, loving her fire, the way she pushed back.
I grabbed the hem of my shirt, pulling it over my head and tossing it aside. Her eyes raked over my chest, tracing the hard lines of muscle earned in blood and sweat.
I peeled off my boots, unbuckled my belt, the metal clinking in the quiet room, and shed my jeans and boxers in one move. My cock sprang free, hard and heavy, and her gaze lingered, a flicker of hunger darkening her eyes.
I stood there, unapologetic, letting her see every inch of me—ready, wanting, hers.
“Taste me,” she said, her voice a sultry challenge, her legs still spread, her body a siren’s call.
I crossed the room in two strides, dropping to my knees at the bed’s edge. My hands found her thighs, spreading them wider, my fingers digging into her soft skin.
I leaned in, breathing her in—warm, sweet, intoxicating.
I kissed the inside of her thigh, my lips soft at first, then harder, my teeth grazing her flesh. She gasped, her hips shifting, and I moved higher, my tongue tracing a slow path to her center. I licked her, long and deliberate, savoring her taste—sweet and salty, pure Portia.
Her moan was sharp, her hands fisting the sheets, and I teased her clit with soft flicks, then harder, circling, sucking gently until her thighs trembled against my face.
I didn’t rush, didn’t let up, exploring every fold, every sensitive spot, her gasps guiding me as I drove her higher.
“Silas,” she breathed, her voice a plea, her body arching under my mouth.
I growled against her, the vibration making her shudder, and kept going, my tongue relentless, my hands pinning her hips to keep her still.
She was close, her breaths ragged, her moans louder, and I pushed her to the edge, wanting to feel her break.
“Stop,” she gasped, her voice urgent, her hand tugging my hair. “Your turn.”
I pulled back, my lips wet with her, my chest heaving.
She slid off the bed, kneeling in front of me, her hands gripping my hips, her nails biting into my skin. I groaned as her mouth closed around my cock, hot and tight, her tongue swirling over the tip.
She didn’t tease—she took me deep, her lips stretching around me, her eyes locked on mine. The sight of her—on her knees, fierce and unafraid—sent a jolt through me, pleasure spiking hard and fast.
She sucked hard, her tongue working me, her hands steadying me as I fought to keep control. My fingers threaded through her curls, guiding her, but she didn’t need it. She was relentless, taking me to the edge, daring me to lose myself in her.
“Enough,” I growled, pulling her up before I came undone, my voice hoarse. “Back on the bed.”
She obeyed, climbing onto the sheets, her body flushed, her breath fast. She lay back, her legs parting again, her eyes daring me to take her.
I followed, my hands braced on either side of her, our gazes locked, the air crackling with need.
“Touch me,” she commanded, her voice low, her hands reaching for mine.
I slid a hand down her body, slow and deliberate, tracing the curve of her breast, her nipple hard under my palm. I pinched gently, drawing a gasp, then moved lower, my fingers gliding over her stomach, her hip, until I reached her clit.
I circled it, soft at first, then harder, watching her face—her lips parting, her eyes fluttering. She was slick, sensitive, and I teased her, drawing out every moan, every shudder, until her hips bucked against my hand.
“Kiss me,” I said, my voice rough, needing her closer.
She leaned up, her lips finding mine, soft and hungry. Our tongues met, a slow dance that tasted of her, of us, of the heat we’d built. I kissed her deep, my hand still working her clit, her moans vibrating against my mouth.
She clutched my shoulders, her nails digging in, and I felt her tremble, close again, but I didn’t let her come—not yet.
“Put your cock inside me,” she said, breaking the kiss, her voice a command, her eyes blazing.
