That’s all I need.
I kiss her. She melts into it, her mouth parting beneath mine. I press her back against the tile, not rough. Just enough to hold her steady. Her fingers clutch my arms. I slide my hands down her sides, thumbs brushing over the curve of her hips.
“Tell me you want this,” I whisper.
She blinks down at me, breathless. “Again?”
A low sound leaves my chest. “I can’t help it. I’m starving for you.”
Her throat works as she nods. “I want this.”
“Say please,” I murmur, mouth brushing her skin. “I like hearing it from you.”
“Please, Havoc,” she breathes. “Ruin me.”
Hearing my name on her lips like that cracks something open inside me. It’s not just want. It’s reverence. Possession. Purpose.
I drop to my knees.
Her breath catches as I grip her thighs and pull her gently against my mouth.
“I’ll never get enough of this sweet pussy,” I murmur.
And then I show her.
My tongue moves slow at first, unhurried, savoring every twitch of her hips, every soft sound in her throat. She tastes like sin and surrender. I find the rhythm she likes, the exact pressure that makes her breath stutter, and I stay there until she’s shaking.
One orgasm crashes over her. Then another.
I don’t let up. My hands hold her steady as her legs tremble. Her fingers bury in my hair. Her cries bounce off the walls, desperate and high.
When I finally lift my head, she’s wrecked. Barely holding herself upright, body slick with water and pleasure.
“Please,” she breathes.
“Please what?”
She meets my eyes, panting. “I can’t anymore…”
I grin. “One more.”
Before she can protest, I dive back in. Focused. Intent. I want her undone. I want her completely lost in what I give her.
She moans my name like a plea, and then she’s gone again, hips bucking, hands fisting the air, voice breaking on a strangled cry.
I keep her steady until the last wave fades, then rise slowly, brushing my fingers down her sides as she slumps against the wall, spent.
Her chest heaves. Her eyes are closed. She looks wild and soft at once, flushed and radiant, her body trembling under the weight of pleasure I gave her.
The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
My woman.
She blinks up at me, still wrecked, lips parted, breath uneven. One hand lifts, hesitant, then settles against my stomach like she’s testing the idea.
“I can… do something for you,” she murmurs, voice soft, uncertain but sincere. “I want to.”
Something in my chest tightens.
