It’s dizzying. His touch, his scent, the way he holds me like I’m something fragile and filthy all at once.
“You close?” he murmurs.
“Yes,” I breathe, barely able to get the word out.
“Come for me, sugar,” he growls, voice like velvet and sin. “I want to feel you fall apart in my arms.”
And I do, clutching his wrist, moaning into the mattress as my body trembles with release. He holds me through it, kissing my temple, still hard and throbbing against me.
When I finally catch my breath, I roll to face him.
“You’re still?—”
“I know.” His eyes are dark, playful. “You gonna help me with that?”
“Guess we’re not getting out of bed anytime soon.”
He smirks. “Didn’t plan on it.”
I don’t answer him. Not with words. Instead, I slide down beneath the sheets, eyes locked on his as I trail kisses down his chest. His abs tighten beneath my mouth, and I feel the sharp hitch of his breath as I press lower, slower, dragging my fingers along the waistband of his boxers.
He’s already straining against it, thick and ready, and the look in his eyes says everything.
“Phern,” he rasps, voice nearly gone. “If you stop now, I might actually lose my mind.”
I hook my fingers in the waistband of his boxers and tug them down, freeing him.God, he’s beautiful—flushed and thick, the kind of size that should intimidate me.
But all I feel is need.
My hand wraps around him, slow, deliberate. I lean in and flatten my tongue against the head, tasting salt and heat.
Will groans, his head tipping back against the pillow, one hand fisting in the sheets.
“You’re gonna kill me,” he mutters, voice rough and ragged.
“Then die happy,” I whisper against him, and he lets out a sharp, broken laugh.
His hand slides into my hair. Not forcing, just holding me there. His hips lift slightly, controlled and tight.
“Open wider, baby,” he says, voice thick with restraint. “Yeah, just like that. Take more.”
I do. I takeallof him that I can, hollowing my cheeks, letting him guide me.
“That’s it,” he groans. “Use your hand, slow. Twist your wrist—yeah. Fuck, you’re a fast learner.”
I hum in response, and he shudders. His grip tightens in my hair, like if he doesn’t hold on, he’ll come apart completely.
“Look at me,” he says.
I glance up, lips wrapped around him, and the sound he makes is pure ruin.
“Jesus, Phern. You look so good like this.”
I take my time, working him with my mouth and hand, savoring every twitch, every curse he lets slip. His thighs tense, hips flexing up once, twice, just enough to make me feel the restraint it’s costing him.
“Don’t stop,” he rasps. “Fuck—don’t stop. I’m close.”
And then I feel it.
