He doesn’t say a word as he reaches for me, his large hands sliding under my knees and pushing them open, baring me to him fully. The lace of my panties providing little coverage. Hishands push me flat against the mattress, anchoring me there as he climbs over me, his sculpted arms supporting his weight. His mouth finds the skin of my stomach, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses over the curve of my waist, my hips, to the edge of my panties.
His tongue presses against my clit, just the thinnest layer of lace between us. I gasp at the sudden contact, hips jerking, and his eyes fly up to meet mine, dark and full of hunger. The sight of him like this, between my thighs, tongue dragging over me in smooth, deliberate strokes… it’s almost too much to bear.
I arch into him, greedy for more. He takes the hint, his fingers curling into the waistband of my panties. He peels them off with agonizing slowness, drawing out the motion, and then tosses them to the floor. And then his mouth is finally on me. I feel his mouth against my bare skin, hot and focused. My hips buck against his mouth, a moan tearing from my throat.
He groans, the vibration sending shockwaves through me. His tongue circles my clit with precision, flicking, teasing, then flattening as he licks me in broad, slow strokes. I cry out, “more, more, more”, and he answers with a low growl in his throat.
I push against him, wanting his fingers inside me. Wantinghiminside me.
His hand slips between my thighs, a single finger teasing my entrance before pushing in, thick and slow. My pussy clenches around him, aching for more. I dig my fingers into the sheets, breathing heavily, as he pumps his finger in and out in timing with his tongue on my clit.
“Please,” I whisper, the sound needy. Practically begging him.
He gives me two fingers, stretching me wider, his mouth not letting up for even a second. Every flick of his tongue sends me spiraling higher, my orgasm coiling and tightening in my core. I’m trembling, my moans growing louder as he brings me to the brink of euphoria.
His name tears from my lips like a prayer as I break, shattering to pieces. My body shakes as he keeps going, licking me through every wave of pleasure. It’s too much, not enough, andeverythingall at once. He draws out my pleasure until I’m spent, until I’m totally done for.
He finally pulls away, his lips wet with my come, a smirk on his face that’s so smug it should be illegal. I want to kiss it off of him.
I lie there, completely sated and drenched in ecstasy. He grabs a blanket from the foot of the bed, draping it gently over me, then slides in beside me. I roll towards him, hooking my leg over his hips, curling into his warm chest. He wraps his arms around me, pressing a tender kiss to my forehead.
I sigh, completely content in this moment. Blissful, even.
My hand drifts down his chest, fingers trailing over his muscles as I find the waistband of his boxers. I want to return the favor, but as I move to reach forhim,he gently takes my hand, stopping me.
“No, Trouble,” he murmurs, his voice deep and husky. “This was all for you.”
I press my cheek to his chest, breathing him in. It’s quiet. Just the hum of the heater and the steady beat of his heart beneath my ear.
Then I say, quietly, “Why don’t you want me to touch you?”
He exhales softly. “Because tonight wasn’t about me. It was about showing you how you deserve to be treated. No expectations. No pressure.”
My throat tightens. “That’s not what I’m used to.”
“I know,” he says again. “I see it in the way you brace for rejection. The way you flinch when you think you’ve said too much.”
His fingers trace gentle lines down my arm. Slow, steady.
“You don’t have to earn care, Sophie. You don’t have to perform to be wanted.”
Something in my chest crumples at that. The part of me that’s always been trying to be enough. Be worthy. Be perfect.
“My ex… he made me feel like love was conditional. Like I had to be grateful that he chose me at all. All the while treating me like crap.”
“Then he never really loved you.”
I swallow hard. “Have you ever felt like that? Like you had to shrink yourself to be loved?”
He’s quiet for a moment before he answers.“Yeah. Not the same, but… yeah. I was with someone once who only loved the version of me she wanted to see. Not who I really was.”
My hand finds his under the blanket, interlacing our fingers.
“We’re both a little wrecked,” I whisper.
“We are,” he agrees. “But maybe that’s why this works. Maybe we recognize that in each other.”
I nod against him. When I finally fall asleep, I do so wrapped in his arms, my chest warm. Feeling safe, seen, and wanted.
