“If you let me do this, it’ll be easier to take me,” he whispers back.
He settles between my thighs, spreading them wider. His eyes find mine and hold them. And I find my courage. I’m so eager to see what it feels like… what he feels like.
He kisses my inner thigh, then stretches the tip of his tongue to lick the slick arousal painted on the sensitive skin. Heat floods me. He presses his nose lower still, and I gasp. My mind again goes quiet, like my whole body is nothing but one big pulse of expectation.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” he says softly. “Tell me if you need me to stop.”
“Okay,” I whisper back. His responding growl makes my pussy clench with need. I spread my thighs, feeling powerful. I watch his eyes grow dark and heated as he breathes me in and releases a shuddering groan. My grip on the sheets relaxes, and instead, my fingers weave into his hair, anchoring me.
And then he drags the flat of his tongue to my throbbing, aching core. I cry out, my back arching off the bed, gripping his hair. Oh my god, this feels amazing. With every stroke of his tongue, heat blooms inside me, the pressure building. My resistance melts, and I whimper when he suckles my clit between his full lips.
His groan of approval tells me he likes this too.
“Right there,” I whisper when he strokes just right, and I whimper in need. I press the back of his head to keep him in place. “My god, don’t stop.”
“That’s my girl,” he says, his voice muffled between my thighs. “So fucking sweet. So fucking perfect. Let yourself go, love. Come on my tongue.”
My body grows boneless, and I sigh—the delicious feeling of his tongue, his rough hands gripping my thighs, the way pleasure is building, growing—it’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.
My fear dissolves into trust, and I let myself just… melt. “That’s it, love,” he whispers, before he scratches the stubble on his chin across my thighs. “You’re doing so well. Come on my tongue, love.”
I cry out in pleasure when my orgasm suddenly claims me. Bliss floods me, my hips rise, and he holds my thighs and continues to lick me through every spasm of ecstasy.
“Good girl.” And I’m still coming, still in the throes of bliss, when he kisses his way back up my body.
“See? I told you I’d take care of you. Now you’re so damn wet for me, aren’t you?” He slides his fingers through my wet heat just to prove his point, before he laps them clean, inches from me.
I whimper wordlessly, suddenly overcome with an unexpected need to be filled by him, to draw closer, to feel himinsideme.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” he whispers in my ear, trembling with the effort of holding himself back.
“No. Don’t stop,” I whisper. “Please don’t stop, Cavin.”
He reaches down and positions himself. The broad head of his cock presses against my entrance.
“Breathe, love.”
I try. He pushes forward. Just the tip.
The stretch is immediate. Intense. My body resists.
“Fuck, you’re tight.” His jaw is clenched, the muscles corded with the effort of holding still. “Relax for me, Erin. Let me in.”
I breathe… try to relax. He pushes deeper.
There’s pressure, then a sharp sting that makes me tense.
“Shh, shh.” He kisses me, murmuring against my lips—soft reassurances in that rough brogue that grounds me. “That’s it, love. I’ve got you. You’re doing so well. Taking me so fucking well.”
He bottoms out, then stays completely still, letting me adjust. I feel so full, stretched, connected to him in the most intimate way possible.
“How do you feel?” His voice is strained.
“Full.” I shift my hips experimentally. “So full.”
“Christ.” His hips jerk involuntarily. “Don’t—don’t move like that unless you want this over fast.”
“I want—” I don’t know what I want. I just know I need more. “Move. Please move.”
