And for a moment—he just looks.
Like he needs to memorize every inch of her bare body before he claims it.
“My lips,” he murmurs against her skin, “are going everywhere my hands go.”
She gasps.
He grabs her wrist and walks her backwards until the backs of her knees hit the bed. She drops onto it, legs spread slightly, wild with anticipation.
He kneels between her thighs, dragging the black lace thong down her legs, slow and sinful. Then tosses it aside.
And then he’s on her.
His mouth is hot, hungry—lips closing around one nipple while his hand palms the other breast, squeezing just enough to make her back arch. Her moan splits the room.
He trails kisses down her stomach, stubble scraping her skin like heat.
Then he licks her.
Once.
Twice.
Flat, slow, teasing.
She cries out, hips lifting, but he pins her down with firm hands. His tongue works deeper, faster, rougher—teasing her clit with the tip before sucking hard enough to make her sob his name.
“Jaxon—fuck—please—”
But he doesn’t stop. He devours her. Like she’s the only thing in the world that matters. He sucks, licks, flicks—until her body shakes beneath him.
When her thighs begin to tremble, he slips two fingers inside her—curving just right—and her whole body tightens.
“Come for me,” he growls against her.
She shatters.
Legs shaking. Fists locked in the sheets. Her back arches like her body’s trying to outrun the orgasm crashing through her.
She collapses, wrecked. Panting. Gasping for air.
And that’s when Jaxon rises.
His mouth glistens. His eyes burn.
He strips off the rest of his clothes in seconds. His cock is hard—thick, flushed, and ready. And when she sees him, her breath catches.
She reaches out, wraps her fingers around him, strokes slow and deliberate.
He groans deep in his chest, but grabs her wrist, pushing it away.
“I’m not done tasting you.”
He grabs her hips, flips her to her stomach, and drags her to the edge of the bed.
Her ass lifts. Her legs part. She’s soaked and spread, a fucking invitation.
But he doesn’t give in.
