I wanted to touch him. Needed to. My hand moved before I could overthink it, fingers wrapping around him tentatively.
He sucked in a breath, his whole body going taut. "Christ, Flannery."
"Is this okay?" I stroked experimentally, fascinated by the heat of him, the way he felt—hard and soft at the same time.
"More than okay." His voice was strained. His hand covered mine, showing me the rhythm he liked. "Just like that. Squeeze a little—yeah, perfect."
I watched his face as I touched him, learning what made his breath catch, what made him groan. The power of it thrilled me—that I could make him react like this.
"You keep doing that and this'll be over before we even start." He gently removed my hand, kissing my palm. "And I've got other plans first."
He stepped between my legs again, skin to skin now, and the sensation made me gasp. He was so warm, so solid. His arousal pressed against my inner thigh, hard and hot.
"I want to taste you," he said, his hands sliding up my thighs. "Make you come on my tongue. Would you like that?"
I could barely form words. "I don't know. I've never—"
"I know." He kissed me deeply. "That's what makes it so good. Trust me?"
"Yes."
He knelt between my legs, spreading them wider, and I fought the urge to close them. This was so intimate, so vulnerable. But the way he looked at me—like he was starving and I was a feast—made me brave.
"So pretty," he murmured, his breath hot against my inner thigh. "Been wanting to do this all night."
The first touch of his tongue made me cry out. Nothing I'd read had prepared me for this—the wet heat, the gentle suction, the way he explored me like he had all the time in the world.
"Oh God, Shep—"
"That's it. Let me hear you."
He licked and sucked, finding my clit and circling it with maddening precision. When he slid a finger inside me, curling to find that spot, I nearly came apart.
"Please—"
"Please what?"
"I need—I don't know—"
"You need to come." He did something with his tongue that made stars burst behind my eyelids. "Let go. I've got you."
My orgasm slammed into me, every nerve firing at once. I cried out his name, my hands fisting in his hair, and he worked me through it until I was trembling and oversensitive.
"Oh my God," I panted when I could speak again.
He stood, his lips glistening, looking entirely too pleased with himself. "Just the warm-up." He kissed me, and I could taste myself on his tongue. "Still want to keep going?"
"Yes. Definitely yes."
He reached past me, grabbed one of the condoms still scattered on the counter. I watched him roll it on, fascinated despite my nervousness. He was still hard, maybe even harder than before, and I felt a thrill knowing I'd done that to him.
"You tell me if anything hurts, yeah? We stop immediately."
"I will."
He pressed against me, slow and careful. "Breathe."
I breathed, and he pushed in. The stretch burned, foreign and intense, and I gripped his shoulders.
