And I’m not even inside her yet.
“God, I missed you,” I whisper against her skin.“I missed this.”
She cups my face, thumb brushing my cheekbone, and her voice cracks when she says, “Then take me.All of me.”
I groan.
I drop to my knees in front of her, pressing my lips to her belly, the waistband of her jeans, the button I undo with my teeth because I can’t help myself.She laughs—soft, breathless—and I swear it’s the first sound that’s felt like sunlight in years.
I tug the denim down her legs after taking off her shoes, and intentional, and she steps out of them like she’s shedding every piece of distance between us.Then she’s standing in nothing but black lace panties and nerves and need.
I rise again, cupping her face, kissing her like I’ll never get enough—because I won’t.
My fingers dip under the edge of the lace, teasing her, feeling how soaked she is already.
“Fuck, Kit,” I breathe.“You’re killing me.”
She leans in, lips grazing mine, her voice a whisper of heat and recklessness.“Then die with me.”
I lift her, arms around her thighs, her body molding into mine like she’s always belonged here.I carry her to the bed, laying her down like she’s breakable—but not fragile.Never fragile.Just something too goddamn precious to rush.
I pause.Take her in.
She’s splayed out before me, bare, glowing in the dim light, every inch of her flushed and waiting.My cock aches—throbs so hard it’s dizzying—but I force myself to slow down.To savor.I don’t want to fuck this away.I want to memorize it.Brand it into the parts of me that forgot how to feel anything but empty.
I slide down her body, my mouth pressing kisses along her belly, each one lower than the last.My hands grip her thighs, spreading her open, and when I see her—really fucking see her—I go still.
She’s glistening.
Wet, swollen, pink, and perfect.Her scent hits me hard—familiar and dizzying—and my mouth waters.My throat tightens.I exhale through my teeth and rest my lips just above her clit, teasing her with heat and nothing else.
“I need to taste you,” I murmur, voice ragged.
Then I do.
I start slow.Barely a kiss.Just a whisper of tongue against her slit—light enough to make her hips jerk, to make her whimper like it hurts not to be touched deeper.
“Wild,” she moans, fingers sinking into the sheets, her thighs twitching under my grip.
I groan into her.Fuck, she tastes better than memory.
I lick again, a little lower this time, dragging my tongue through her folds, savoring the slickness, the heat.I tease her with the flat of my tongue, then press the tip right where she needs it—just a flick, just enough to make her gasp.
“Roderick,” she breathes, and fuck if my name doesn’t sound like a prayer on her lips.
I wrap my arms under her thighs, pulling her closer to my face, locking her in.Then I go to work—slow, teasing her the way I know she likes.I circle her clit with my tongue, soft at first, then firmer, sucking gently before flicking again.Her legs shake.Her back arches.
I slide two fingers inside her, slow and smooth, feeling her clench around me as I curl them just right—just there—and her whole body tightens like a bowstring.
“Oh my God,” she gasps, her voice breaking apart.
I don’t stop.
I add pressure.My fingers pump with precision while my mouth locks onto her clit.Sucking.Teasing.Devouring her like she’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted.
Because she is.
She bucks under me, thighs trembling, moaning louder now—unfiltered, uncontrolled, so fucking perfect.I feel her getting close, that desperate pull in her hips, the erratic stutter of her breath.
