“I’ve got you,” I growl against her, and I do. I’ve got hercompletely.
I slide one slick finger back inside her, curling it just right, and this time I add a second before she can even ask. She’s soaked—ruined for anyone else—and I mean to keep her thatway. Her walls flutter around me, struggling to take both, and I feel her breath catch as her back bows off the table again.
“That’s it, honeybee,” I murmur. “You’re opening up for me.”
The honey is still working its magic, loosening every tight edge, and I can feel her body responding—greedy for pressure, greedy for depth. She’s grinding now, hips chasing my fingers, my tongue, everything I give her. I suck harder, faster, and her hands scrabble across the wood until one finds my hair and clutches tight.
“Fuck—I’m—Garrik?—”
Her second orgasm crashes into her like a wave, shaking her to pieces. She sobs my name, hips bucking, legs trembling. Her thighs squeeze my head tight, and I let them. Iwanther to hold me there. Want her to feel overwhelmed, overcome, adored. My cock is aching for her, painfully hard, but she needs this first.
I would pleasure her forever if she let me.
She sags back down when it’s over, barely able to lift her head. “You’re insane,” she pants. “I’m…I can’t even see straight?—”
“Good,” I rumble, licking her clean with one last reverent swipe. “Now one more.”
Her eyes go wide. “I can’t—there’s no way?—”
“You said please not five minutes ago,” I tease. “Don’t tell me you’re tapping out already.”
She glares at me, but it’s weak…flushed and dazed and delicious. “You’re the worst.”
“You love it.”
She groans in exasperation. “Fine. But if I die, you have to explain it to my archivist supervisor.”
“I’ll start with ‘death by excessive orgasm,’” I say, grinning, and she laughs—ragged and delighted, the kind of laugh that makes me feel like I could live off it forever.
I press soft kisses along her thighs, giving her a moment to breathe, and then I slide my fingers back inside her. She whimpers but doesn’t stop me. Her body welcomes me now, slick and hot and open, the walls of her pussy fluttering as I curl my fingers just right.
This time I use my mouth and fingers in perfect rhythm—slow, deep, precise. I take my time, teasing her higher and higher, letting her fall apart over and over without tipping her all the way over the edge…until she’s panting, begging, grinding against my mouth like she’s starving for it.
“Garrik, please,” she sobs. “Please let me?—”
I hum against her clit and press just right inside her, and she shatters.
She comes with a cry, full-body and desperate, her hands yanking at my hair, her thighs convulsing as I hold her through it. She moans and moans, riding the wave all the way through, until she’s a puddle of molten girl on my table.
When she finally sags back, too spent to speak, I lift my head and kiss the inside of her knee.
“There we go,” I murmur. “My sweet, perfect honeybee.”
Her hand twitches. I take it gently, cradling it to my mouth.
“I’m going to take you to bed now,” I whisper. “We’ll sleep for a few hours. And in the morning…”
I lean closer, brushing her hair back from her face as I press a kiss to her cheek, then her temple, then the corner of her mouth.
“In the morning, I’m going to stretch you again. And then I’m going to fuck you.”
She makes a broken little sound and melts into my chest.
I lift her carefully off the table, cradling her against me as I carry her to bed.
She belongs here.
And so do I.
