Heat detonates through me and my vision goes white around the edges, because this grip allows me to feel myself moving inside her throat, and it nearly tips me over the edge of no return.
With the last ounce of restraint I have, I slide my hand from her throat into her soaked hair and gather it at the crown of her head.
“Stop, baby.”
I pull gently but firmly. It makes her release me with a wet pop.
Gasping, she sits up on her knees, licking her lips like she’s chasing whatever taste of me lingers there. Disappointment, as clear as the sheen of tears still in her eyes, flashes across her face.
“You just said you were close,” she pants, breathless, “why are you stop?—”
She doesn’t finish.
I reach for her with all the speed my wired body is capable of. One moment she is kneeling, the next she is on her unsteady feet. She sways, drunk on arousal, on the mix of our scents, on everything we’ve been doing, and I keep a steadying hand on her hip as the other grabs the hem of her drenched sweater.
She lifts her arms without thinking, trusting me. I pull it off her in one clean motion. It joins my discarded sweats across the shower in a sodden heap.
She stands there in nothing but her black thong, blinking up at me with wide, startled eyes. A small noise leaves her, half surprised, half out of breath.
I can’t help myself.
I bend down and claim her mouth in a fast, consuming kiss, licking into her like I need to consume her air more than my own. I can taste myself on her tongue, mixed with her sweetness, and it drags a sound out of me that I feel rattle my bones.
“I warned you,” I murmur against her lips before nipping at her bottom lip with a gentleness I barely have enough control to give. My tongue soothes away the sting of the bite. “Told you once I got my hands on you, I wasn’t letting you go until you were screaming my name, baby.”
My hands slip from her hips to the thin straps of her thong, fingers curling around the delicate cotton. It rips the second I pull, the sound sharp and loud in this glass enclosure.
The air catches in her throat, and I don’t think the ruined underwear even hits the ground before I’m lifting her.
Her back slides up the smooth tile until I have her at the height I want. She ends up high above me, her pretty, glistening pussy now eye level. Which is precisely where I want her—close enough that I can bury my face in her and drown myself in her sweet slick. Her scent pours over me in a wave, rich and intoxicating, and it nearly steels my balance.
I give Noa no choice but to hook her legs over my shoulders. Her body trembles in my palms as I look up at her and she stares down at me, the flush in her cheeks no longer just arousal, but very human embarrassment. She feels too exposed. Too open.
I can’t allow that.
Not with me.
Not with the man who’s hers.
“Ren…” she starts, uncertainty clinging to my nickname.
Whatever she was about to say dissolves the second I lean in and taste her.
One slow, languid lick through her beckoning cunt and she breaks apart for me, crying out my name like it’s the only word she knows.
“Yes, just like that,” I breathe against her skin, my approving rumble vibrating against her sensitive flesh. “Scream my name, sweet one.”
I tease her first, licking slow, wide circles around her clit without touching exactly where she’s desperate for me. The breathless, frustrated sounds she makes are a song composed just for me, feeding the pleasure already burning through my veins. But it’s when her body bows off the tile, hips rising to meet my mouth the instant I finally claim that bundle of nerves with my lips, that my knees nearly buckle.
I’ve spent too long being the source of my mate’s agony when I was meant to be the one who showed her pleasure, who made her feel wanted and adored. So every caress of my tongue, every slow lick, every careful graze of my teeth against the sensitive, wet flesh of her pussy becomes both a vow and apology I’m embedding into her one devoted touch at a time.
Her thighs clamp around my head, her body tightening and melting at the same time, the perfect contradiction of wanting more and being overwhelmed by what she’s already getting. I hold her there, tender and unrelenting all at once, and give her everything her body wordlessly begs for.
Her hips start riding my mouth with a rhythm she can’t control, desperation driving each frantic movement. She shakes in my arms, delicate fingers twisting in my hair, tugging hard as if she can drag me deeper into her sweetness.
I go willingly, greedily drinking down every drop her pussy weeps.
Her voice breaks around the warning she tries to give. “Ren!I’m gonna?—”
