“Look at you,” I muttered. “Taking me like you missed me.”
“I did,” she cried, voice shaking.
I spanked her again and she bounced back on me, matching my rhythm, chasing it. Rougher. Faster. The table slammed against the wall. Another glass fell and cracked.
She didn’t flinch. She just begged louder.
“Harder,” she said.
So I gave it to her.
My hand slid from her hip to her waist as I drove into her with everything I had. Her moans broke apart—ragged, gasping, desperate. Her head dropped between her arms as her body tightened around me.
“Tariq—”
“I’m here.”
“Don’t stop.”
“I’m not.”
Her legs buckled. I felt the shift—her climax coming like a wave she couldn’t stop. She cried out when it hit her, screaming my name as her body clamped down around me, pulsing, shaking.Milkingme. I bit down on my lip to keep from following her.
I slowed. Let her ride it.
Thrusting deep. Steady. Until her breath came back.
Then I pulled out.
She whimpered.
I lifted her onto the table, spread her thighs, and dropped to my knees.
She tried to close them.
I didn’t let her.
“Tariq, I?—”
“You can.”
I licked her slow. Deep. Tasting her, devouring her. She was still trembling. Still swollen. Still mine. I sucked her clit into my mouth and her legs clamped around my shoulders. Her back arched.
Her second orgasm crashed through her quieter but just as fierce. Her fingers gripped my head. Her body curled around my mouth.
I stroked myself while I tasted her. On the edge again.
When I couldn’t take it, I stood and slid back inside of her, feeling her still fluttering walls caressing me as I gave her everything I had left to give.
The kitchen looked like a storm hit it. But all I saw was her.
Still tasting me. Still glistening between her thighs. Still everything.
Later,we were in her bed.
The chaos we’d made in the kitchen felt far away now. Reduced to memory. To heat still lingering in our bones. Here, everything was slower. Breathing slower. Thinking slower.
She lay sprawled across me like she had nowhere else to be, cheek resting over my heart, one leg hooked over my thigh. Her skin was warm from the shower we’d taken together, the faint scent of her soap mixing with mine. My hand rested at the smallof her back, tracing lazy circles, not trying to start anything—just needing to touch her. To confirm she was still there.
