When he reaches the waistband of my underwear, he hooks his fingers in and pulls them down. Slowly. Too slowly.
“Tony—”
“Shh. Let me enjoy this.”
He settles between my thighs and just looks at me for a moment with an intensity that makes me feel completely exposed.
Then he lowers his head and puts his mouth on me.
I cry out at the first touch of his tongue. He knows my body now. Knows exactly where to lick and suck to make me fall apart.
“That’s it,” he mumbles against me. “Don’t hold back.”
I grab the sheets and push my hips up, but Tony pins them down with his forearm, holding me in place while he works me with his tongue.
“Tony, please?—”
He doesn’t answer. Just adds two fingers and curls them inside me while his tongue focuses on my clit.
The dual sensation is too much. I’m already close, trembling on the edge.
“Let go,” Tony instructs. “I want to feel you come.”
His fingers curl harder. His tongue moves faster. And I shatter.
I scream his name without a care in the world as to who hears. Don’t care about anything except the pleasure crashing through me in waves.
Tony doesn’t stop. He works me through it, drawing out every aftershock until I’m oversensitive and pushing at his head.
Only then does he kiss his way back up my body. He takes his time, kisses my hip, my ribs, and the valley between my breasts. My throat.
When he reaches my mouth, I taste myself on his lips.
“Your turn,” I announce, using my strength to flip us over.
Tony lands on his back with a surprised laugh. I straddle his hips and grind against him through his boxer briefs. The friction makes us both groan.
“Sasha—”
“Be quiet.”
I lean down and kiss him. Then I work my way down his body the same way he did mine.
I kiss his throat. His chest. Pause to bite the spot just above his hip that I know drives him crazy.
When I reach his underwear, I pull them off in one single yank. He’s hard and ready. I wrap my hand around him and stroke slowly.
“Fuck,” Tony grits out.
I love watching his face. The way he struggles to maintain control. The way his whole body goes taut under my touch.
I lower my head and take him in my mouth.
The sound he makes is somewhere between a groan and a prayer. I work him with my tongue, taking him deeper with each movement.
His hands find my hair. Not pushing. Just holding on like he needs something to anchor himself.
I establish a rhythm. Slow at first, then faster, using my hand where my mouth can’t reach.
