He reaches for the button of my jeans, and I lift my hips to help him pull them down along with my underwear. Then I'm bare before him, and his gaze darkens to something primal.
"Lie back."
I obey, my heart racing. He starts with my navel, and my breath hitches. His tongue explores my stomach down to my legs, making me moan. He spreads my legs gently, his calloused palms rough against my inner thighs, and then his mouth is on me.
The first touch of his tongue on my clit makes me gasp. He explores slowly, deliberately, making me arch and moan. When he finds that perfect spot, he focuses there, building pleasure in slow, devastating waves.
"Declan," I whimper, my hands fisting in his hair.
He hums against me, the vibration sending sparks through my core. One hand slides up to palm my breast, thumb brushing over my nipple through the fabric of my bra. The dual sensation is overwhelming.
"Please," I beg.
He slides two fingers inside me, curling them just right that they send me over the edge. The orgasm crashes through me, stealing my breath, my vision, everything but the sensation of falling apart under his touch.
When I finally come back to myself, he's kissing his way up my body. My hip. My stomach. The valley between my breasts. He reaches behind me to unhook my bra, and then that's gone too.
I lean forward, and his mouth closes over one breast, tongue circling, teeth grazing gently. Pleasure shoots through me, straight to my core. My head falls back as he lavishes attention on first one, then the other, his hands kneading and caressing.
But I want more than this. I want to give him what he's given me.
“Declan,” I gasp. “Wait.”
He pauses, waiting.
My eyes trail across his lips. I take in his broad chest, his abs, that jeans that is blocking my view.
"My turn," I tell him breathlessly.
A slow, devastating smile spreads across his face.
"By all means, Doc. Show me what you've learned."
Heat floods my cheeks, but I don't look away. Instead, I sit up and reach for his belt, my fingers fumbling slightly. He helps me, pushing his jeans and boxer briefs down until he's naked before me. My mouth goes dry at the sight.
"Lie down," I instruct.
His eyebrows rise, but he complies, stretching out on the bed. I crawl over him, straddling his thighs. His gaze tracks my movements, hungry and appreciative.
I lean down and press my lips to his collarbone, then his chest, following the lines of ink. His breath hitches when I find his nipple, teasing it with my tongue. His fingers flex against my legs.
I trail my hand down his stomach, over the ridges of his abs. My hand wraps around his penis. He's hard and hot in my palm, and when I stroke slowly, his hips jerk upward.
"You're killing me," he groans, his hand coming up to cup my breasts, thumbs brushing over my nipples.
I exhale shakily. "Good."
I want to take him in my mouth, but I’ve never done it before. What if he doesn’t like it? My hands start to tremble. I stop stroking.
“What’s wrong?”
"I'm nervous," I admit.
"Don't be." He sits up, bringing us chest to chest, and presses a soft kiss to my collarbone. "I've got you."
One hand pushes his chest gently, and he lies on the bed. I take him in hand, stroking slowly. His head falls back with a groan. Leaning down, I take him in my mouth.
The sound he makes is broken, desperate. His hand comes up to tangle in my hair. I work him with everything I can think of, using my tongue, my lips, taking him as deep as I can.
