I glance up, cheeks hot. “Is that a good thing?”
“Goddess Minerva,” he growls. “It’s a very good thing.”
I lean in, tentative. He watches every move, his breath catching when I swipe my tongue over the tip. Salt. Heat. His whole body tenses.
I do it again, slower, dragging my tongue up the full length until I can close my lips around the tip and suck gently. The taste bursts across my tongue, salty-bitter and all him, and I moan without meaning to. The vibration makes him jerk.
“Fuck, baby, do that again,” he groans. “Your little mouth feels unreal.”
“Like that?” I ask.
His voice is ragged. “You’re gonna ruin me.”
I smile.
Then I do it again.
I flatten my tongue more this time, pressing more of it along the underside of his cock as I drag slowly upward. It twitches in response, and I swear he whimpers. That small, broken sound shoots through me like lightning—because it’s real. I’m doing that. Me.
“I—was that… okay?”
Tristan huffs a breath, tight and strangled. His head knocks back against the headboard. “Min, if I die right now, just know it was the best possible way to go.”
My lips curve, emboldened. I lick again, experimenting with pressure, texture, speed. I’m so focused on his body that I nearly forget to breathe. Every shift in his thighs, every flex of his abs, every stuttered inhale—it’s data. Feedback. And I want to master this.
My fingers brush the base of him, wrapping slowly, and I glance up to see his eyes slam shut.
“Too much?” I ask again, worried.
“No,” he rasps. “Not even close. Just trying to keep it together.”
I want him to come apart.
Not because I need to prove anything—but because he’s always holding so much in. His control. His weight. His everything. And I want to be the one place where he gets to let go.
I swirl my tongue around the head, flicking at that sensitive spot just underneath until his thighs start shaking. Then I take him deeper, as deep as I can without gagging, lips stretched wide around his thickness. My jaw aches already, but I love it, love the way he fills my mouth, love the broken sounds he’s making above me.
“Look at you, Min,” he forces out a tortured laugh. “Stuffed full of my cock. Taking me so fucking perfect. Of course, you’re a natural.”
“I’m not.” I pull back slightly. “I’m just… paying attention.”
That gets a groan. “That’s the hottest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
It’s messy, learning. A little awkward. My jaw aches in places I didn’t expect. I don’t take him deep—I’m not ready for that—but I wrap my lips around the head and suck softly, letting my hand stroke the rest in time.
Saliva slicks my chin, drips onto my hoodie. I don’t care. I’m too busy watching his abs clench every time I hollow my cheeks,too busy learning that when I twist my fist just right on the upstroke, he curses in French.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” he pants. “Stroke me while you suck, just like that. My little scientist figuring me out.”
Then his hand lands on my shoulder. “Look at me,” he says hoarsely.
I do. And what I see there makes my whole body flush.
It’s not just lust. It’s reverence. Like I’m something sacred.
“I can’t believe this is real,” he whispers.
“I’ve never done this before,” I admit, pulling back, wiping my mouth. “Not like this. Not where I actually wanted to.”
