I can see the struggle in him—the instinct to take over, to control, warring with his promise to trust me.
But he plants his palms on the mattress and holds still.
"Good." I pull my sweater over my head, tossing it aside.
His eyes track the movement hungrily. "You've been in charge every time we've done this. You've made me scream, made me beg, made me fall apart in your hands."
I reach back and unhook my bra, letting it fall. His breath catches.
"Now it's my turn."
I take my time with the rest—sliding out of my leggings, my underwear, letting him look his fill.
By the time I'm naked, he's practically vibrating with the effort of staying still.
"You're beautiful," he rasps. "So fecking beautiful."
"I know." I step between his spread thighs, running my fingers through his hair. "Take off your shirt."
He obeys, yanking it over his head with more force than necessary.
I push him back until he's lying flat, then climb onto the bed, straddling his hips.
"Dalla—"
"Shh." I lean down and kiss him, slow and deep, grinding against the hard length of him through his jeans.
He groans into my mouth, his hands fisting in the sheets. "I want to try something. Tell me if it's too much."
"Anything. Whatever you want."
I work my way down his body, pressing kisses to his chest, his stomach, the trail of dark hair that disappears beneath his waistband.
I trace the ridges of his abs with my tongue, feel the muscles jump and clench beneath my mouth.
When I reach his jeans, I take my time with the button and zipper, enjoying the way he squirms.
"Lift your hips."
He does, and I drag his jeans and boxers down together, freeing him.
He's hard and flushed and leaking at the tip, and the sight of him makes my mouth water.
I've seen him before, touched him, had him inside me—but there's something different about this.
About having him laid out beneath me, waiting, wanting, completely at my mercy.
"I've been thinking about this," I murmur, wrapping my hand around him, stroking slowly from root to tip. "About tasting you. About making you lose control the way you make me lose control."
"Dalla—fuck?—"
I take him into my mouth.
He makes a sound like I've punched him, his hips jerking involuntarily before he forces himself still.
I work him slowly, taking him deeper with each pass, learning what makes him gasp and groan.
A swirl of my tongue around the head makes his thighs tremble.
