Couldn’t answer, not with her mouth full of him.
Instead, she hollowed her cheeks and sucked, and the sound he made this time was closer to a growl.
“You...”
His hand found her hair, fingers threading through the damp strands, but he didn’t push or guide. Just held on, like he needed something to anchor himself to reality.
“You don’t have to—” The words came out strangled. “Koukla mou,you don’t—”
She took him deeper in response, and whatever protest he’d been forming dissolved into a groan.
She had no idea what she was doing.
No technique, no skill, nothing but instinct and enthusiasm and a desperate desire to make him feel even a fraction of what he’d made her feel. She let her tongue explore the length of him, tracing ridges and veins, learning the taste of him—salt and musk and something uniquely Paul.
His breathing had gone ragged.
His grip on her hair tightened.
“Andromeda.” His voice was rough now, terrifyingly so...and strangely enough, that made her feel hotter and wetter. “If you don’t stop—”
She didn’t stop.
She increased her pace instead, taking him as deep as she could manage, her hand wrapping around what her mouth couldn’t reach. The sounds filling the room were obscene—wet and desperate and utterly intoxicating—and she could feel him starting to lose control.
His hips moved now, shallow thrusts that he was clearly trying to restrain. His other hand fisted in the sheets, knuckles white. Every muscle in his body had gone taut, straining, trembling on the edge of something he couldn’t hold back much longer.
“Andromeda.” His voice was wrecked. Shattered. “You...”
She sucked harder, and he finally came with a groan that seemed to tear itself from somewhere deep in his soul, his whole body shuddering as he spilled himself in her mouth. Andie swallowed instinctively, tasting the hot rush of him, feeling the way his hand spasmed in her hair and his hips jerked helplessly beneath her.
Wave after wave.
She took all of it.
Every last drop.
When it was finally over, she released him gently, pressing a soft kiss to his hip before lifting her head to look at him.
Paul.
The look on his beautiful face...
Oh Paul.
She didn’t want to put a name on it.
Couldn’t.
Because Paul was suddenly moving—
One moment, she was still kneeling between his legs.
The next, the world had turned upside down, with Andie flat on her back, Paul looming over her like a primitive conqueror, his weight pinning her to the mattress, his hands braced on either side of her head.
Gulp.
The look on her husband’s face...had changed.
