But I won’t.
This is for me.
No one else gets to see her like this—shaking, unraveling, giving me every broken piece. She’s sacred in my hands, falling apart just for me.
I grip her thighs, my fingers digging into soft flesh as I pin her against the window, holding her steady while I feast. Her moans are music, her whimpers a symphony. I flick my tongue over her clit over and over again, slow, teasing, feelingher muscles tighten, her body arch into me, silently begging for more.
She wants to be wrecked.
Wants to be taken apart.
And I’m going to give her everything.
My fingers pump into her, dragging against that spot that makes her cry out, makes her nails scrape through my hair as she bucks against my mouth. I groan against her, letting her ride my face, let her fuck herself on my fingers, the sounds coming from her making my cock ache.
“Finn—” Her voice breaks, breathless and pleading.
I drag my tongue over her one more time before I pull back just enough to murmur against her soaked heat. “Say it.”
She whimpers, shifting, trying to press herself back against my mouth, chasing her release. I grip her hips tighter, my fingers still moving inside her, slow, deliberate, teasing her right to the edge.
“Tell me you want it, little fire.”
She gasps, her head hitting the window, her chest rising and falling in sharp, desperate pants.
“I—” She’s trembling. Shaking.
I press my thumb against her clit, circling in slow, tight strokes. Her back arches. Her thighs tighten.
“Say it, Willow.” My voice is gravel, rough, demanding. “Let me hear you.”
“I need it,” she sobs, and fuck, I lose it.
I bury my face between her thighs, licking, sucking, devouring her as she breaks. She shatters like I knew she would, falling into the pleasure I give her, her cries echoing in my ears, her nails biting into my shoulders.
She’s pure fire in my hands, burning so fucking bright, mine in this moment, and I don’t stop—won’t stop—until Ihave every last sound, every last tremor, until I pull every ounce of pleasure from her shaking body.
She’s still gasping, still twitching when I finally pull back, my fingers easing out of her, my lips wet from her.
She’s shattered. Completely broken. And fuck, I’ve never seen anything so perfect.
I rise to my feet, trailing my hands up her legs, her waist, her ribs, until I’m caging her in against the window again, watching her chest heave, her eyes still glazed from the aftershocks.
I slide my fingers into her hair, gripping just enough to tilt her head back, forcing her to meet my gaze.
Her lips part, still swollen from my kiss, her pupils blown wide as she stares up at me, wrecked and stunned, no clue what the hell just hit her.
I love that look on her.
I need that look on her.
My free hand drifts down, ghosting over her hoodie, tracing along her bare hip.
“You’re so fucking perfect,” I say, my lips brushing hers.
I feel her shiver, her breath catching in her throat. She’s still soft, still trembling, still mine in the aftermath of what I just gave her.
I slide my fingers lower, teasing the inside of her thigh, watching her pupils dilate as she waits, as she wants.
