"Undress me," she pants. "Then kiss me."
I press my mouth against her, a soft, open-mouthed kiss. She moans, her hips lifting, seeking more.
"Like this?" I murmur.
I hold her gaze as I lean in, my tongue tracing a slow, deliberate path through her folds. She gasps, her body arching, a sharp, beautiful sound tearing from her throat.
I take my time, tasting, exploring, learning every secret part of her.
I’m a man possessed, driven by a hunger so intense it borders on madness. She's sweet, salty, and utterly intoxicating.
I explore her slowly, leisurely, learning every curve, every sensitive spot. I find her clit, a small, hard nub, and I circle it with my tongue.
She cries out, her hands fisting in my hair, holding me close. I suck, gently at first, then harder, my tongue flicking, myteeth grazing. She’s writhing now, her hips bucking, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
I pull back, and an aching groan comes out of her.
"Well?" I ask.
I wait until her blurry eyes focus back on me, a question in them.
"Is that how I kissed you?"
She shakes her head, unable to speak.
"No?" I ask softly.
"No," she breathes out on a moan, lifting her hips.
"You— We—" Her face flushes even more as the words stutter to a halt.
I lean forward, tracing the shape of her with my tongue, deliberately light, a tease.
"What did we do, Bibi?" I murmur against her sensitive skin.
Her hips jump. Her entire body clenches. My name falls from her lips as a strangled sob.
"You were inside me."
I pause, my lips hovering over her, my breath warm against her slick skin. My gaze falls to her hands, which are braced on the island, her knuckles white.
"Like this?" I ask, and I slide a finger inside her.
She’s so wet, so tight, a perfect, clenching heat that makes my own arousal spike. I move my finger, a slow, steady rhythm, my thumb finding her clit, circling, pressing.
"No," she gasps. "Not your fingers."
I add a second finger, stretching her, filling her. She moans, her head falling back, her body arching, a perfect, beautiful bow. I watch her face, the way her eyes flutter shut, the way her lips part, the way the muscles in her neck strain. She’s close, so close.
I increase the pressure, the pace, my fingers moving faster, harder, my thumb circling her clit in a relentless, rhythmic dance. Her body tenses, her breath catching in her throat.
"Then what?" I say patiently, slowing my rhythm down.
A sound of frustration escapes her lips, a low, needy growl.
"Your cock!" she snaps out.
I grin. I can't help it. She's usually so reserved, even shy. I love this feral, desperate version of her. My girl with the claws. I slow my fingers down to a near stop, a cruel, maddening tease.
