I obey, pulling my shirt over my head and tossing it aside. Her gaze drags over my chest, my shoulders, the tattoos on my arms, and I watch her pupils blow wide. Then soften as they eye my scar on my shoulder, and she kisses it before swirling her tongue over it.
“Fuck. Your turn," I murmur, fingers curling into the fabric of her shirt.
She nods, and I lift it slowly, giving her time to change her mind. But she doesn't. She raises her arms, letting me pull it off, and when I toss it aside and look at her, my brain short-circuits.
She's gorgeous.
Full breasts, soft curves, a fleshy belly, and skin flushed pink with arousal. And the way she's looking at me—like I'm everything she's ever wanted—makes something fierce and possessive roar to life in my chest.
"You're staring," she whispers.
"Can't help it." I drag my gaze back up to hers. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
Emotions prick at the corners of her eyes. "Troy—"
"I've got you," I say, leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead. "I've got you, sweetheart."
And then I worship her.
I kiss every inch of skin I can reach—her neck, her collarbone, the swell of her breasts. She gasps and arches into me, hands gripping my shoulders, nails digging into my skin.
When I take one nipple into my mouth, she cries out, head falling back against the cabinet. I work her slowly, thoroughly, until she's trembling and breathless and begging me for more.
"Troy, please—"
"I know." I kiss my way down her stomach, hands sliding to her pussy. "Can I?"
"Yes." Her voice is shaking. "God, yes."
I hook my fingers on her wet lips and stroke before I spread her out on the counter. She’s flushed and wanting—I have to take a breath to steady myself.
"You're killing me," I mutter.
She laughs, breathless. "Good."
I kiss her inner thigh, then higher, and I inhale her deep as I salivate. Licking her with the tip of my tongue to tease myselfwith her taste for the first time, she moans so loud I'm pretty sure the neighbors can hear.
I don't care.
She tastes delicious, something I’ll never tire of. I work her with my mouth, my fingers, learning every sound she makes, every place that makes her gasp and shake. She's sweet and responsive, hands fisting in my hair, hips rocking against my mouth.
"Troy—oh God—I'm—"
"Let go," I murmur against her. "I've got you. I always got you."
She comes apart with a cry, her whole body shaking, and I hold her through it, kissing her thighs, her stomach, working her down.
When she goes limp, breath coming in ragged gasps, I stand and pull her into my arms.
"Okay?" I ask, pressing a kiss to her temple.
"Okay?" She laughs, the sound shaky. "That was—I can't—oh my God."
I grin. "I'll take that as a yes."
"Troy." She cups my face in her hands, eyes bright. "I need you. Now."
"You sure?"
