I blush, and he smiles.
"I love when you blush. Love knowing I can still affect you like this."
His hand moves lower, and I gasp when his fingers find the heat between my legs. But he doesn't rush. Doesn't take. Just explores with infinite patience, watching my face as I respond to his touch.
"Tonight isn't about control," he says softly. "Tonight is about worship. I'm going to worship every inch of you, Eve. Make you understand exactly how precious you are to me."
He kisses down my body, his lips and tongue mapping every curve. He spends long minutes at my breasts, sucking and teasing until I'm writhing beneath him. Then he moves lower, kissing the soft flesh of my stomach, the curve of my hip.
"Nathan," I breathe, my hands tangling in his hair.
"Let me," he murmurs against my skin. "Let me show you."
When his mouth finds my center, I arch off the bed with a cry. He holds me steady, his hands gripping my thighs, and devours me like I'm something sacred.
His tongue works me with devastating precision, knowing exactly where to lick, where to suck, where to tease. He builds me up slowly, relentlessly, until I'm sobbing with need.
"Please," I gasp. "Nathan, please—"
He slides two fingers inside me, curling them just right, and I shatter. The orgasm crashes over me like a wave, and he doesn't stop, drawing it out until I'm trembling and boneless.
When he finally lifts his head, his lips are wet with me, and his eyes are dark with desire.
"That's one," he says. "We're just getting started."
He moves up my body and kisses me deeply, letting me taste myself on his tongue. His hardness presses against my thigh, but he makes no move to take his own pleasure.
Instead, he continues his worship. Kissing. Touching. Whispering praise against my skin.
"Perfect," he murmurs. "So fucking perfect. Made for me. Only for me."
His hands map my body like he's memorizing it. Every curve. Every soft place. Every sensitive spot that makes me gasp.
When he finally settles between my legs, I'm already trembling with anticipation.
He enters me slowly, inch by exquisite inch, his eyes locked on mine. The stretch is perfect, the fullness overwhelming.
"Eve," he breathes, and my name has never sounded like such a prayer.
He starts to move, long, slow strokes that make me feel every ridge, every vein. It's not fucking. It's not even sex.
It's worship. Pure and simple.
He makes love to me like I'm something holy. Something precious. Something worth destroying the world for.
And maybe I am. To him, at least.
I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, and he groans. His control is slipping, I can feel it in the way his rhythm stutters, the way his muscles tense.
"Come for me," I whisper. "Nathan, please. I want to feel you."
He buries his face in my neck and drives into me harder, faster. His hand finds my clit, circling with perfect pressure, and I climb again.
We come together, his name on my lips and mine on his, our bodies locked in perfect synchronicity.
Afterward, he holds me against his chest, our breathing slowly returning to normal. His hand strokes my hair with infinite gentleness.
"I love you," he whispers into the darkness. "God, Eve, I love you so much it terrifies me."
