He kissed me, slow and deep, stealing my protest. “I mean that I want to taste you first. Want to feel you come apart on my tongue before I have you.”
The words sent a shockwave through me, desire and surprise warring in my chest. “You don’t have to—”
“I want to.” He was already kissing his way down my body, pausing to worship my breasts, my ribs, the soft skin of my belly. “Let me.”
I couldn’t have refused if I’d wanted to. Not with his mouth trailing fire across my skin, not with his hands spreading mythighs, opening me to his gaze.
“Beautiful,” he said, his breath ghosting over my most sensitive flesh.
Then his mouth was on me, and every coherent thought fled.
He started slow, almost lazy, his tongue tracing patterns that made my hips buck and my hands fist in the sheets. He explored me like he had all the time in the world, learning what made me gasp, what made me moan. When he found my clit and sucked, I nearly came off the bed.
“Fuck,” I gasped, my hand flying to his hair. “Right there.”
He hummed his acknowledgment, the vibration sending fresh sparks of pleasure radiating through me. His tongue circled my clit in maddening strokes, never quite giving me the pressure I needed. When I tried to grind against his mouth, he held my hips down, keeping control.
“Patience,” he murmured, then slid two fingers inside me.
The stretch was exquisite. I was wet enough that they glided in easily, and he crooked them just right, finding that spot inside me that made stars burst behind my eyelids. His mouth continued its assault on my clit, tongue and lips working in tandem with his fingers, building me higher and higher. He sealed his mouth over my clit and sucked hard, his fingers pumping faster, and that was all it took.
I shattered.
The orgasm crashed over me in waves, white-hot pleasure radiating out from my core to every nerve ending. My back arched off the bed, my thighs clamping around his head, and through it all, he kept going, wringing every last tremor from my body until I was boneless and shivering.
When I finally came down, he was kissing his way back up my body, his lips slick with my wetness. The sight of it—ofhim wearing evidence of my pleasure—sent a fresh pulse of desire through me.
“That was…” I couldn’t find words. He kissed me, letting me taste myself on his tongue. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. “But I need you inside me. Now.”
This time, he didn’t argue. My body still thrummed with aftershocks, oversensitive and wanting as he settled between my thighs, the head of his cock pressing against my entrance. “Ready?”
“God, yes.”
He pushed forward slowly, inch by inch, letting me feel every bit of the stretch. I was swollen and sensitive from my orgasm, and the sensation bordered on too much, but then he was fully seated, and it was perfect. He filled me exactly right, and we both groaned at the feeling.
“Move,” I urged, my nails digging into his shoulders.
He did, pulling out almost completely before slamming back in, and I cried out at the force of it. This was what I wanted—hard and fast, the kind of desperate fucking that made you forget your own name. I urged him on with my hands and my body, meeting each thrust with one of my own.
But then something shifted. He slowed down. Instead of the punishing pace I craved, he gave me long, deep strokes that hit different angles, touched different places.
“Hayes.” Frustration edged my voice. “Faster.”
“No.” He captured my wrists, pinning them above my head with one hand. “Not tonight.”
“What—” The question died as he rolled his hips in a slow grind that made my eyes roll back.
“I wasn’t patient last time.“ He thrust deep and held there, his cock buried to the hilt. “But tonight, I want to savor everysecond of this.”
He shifted his weight, changing the angle, and suddenly the slow pace didn’t matter because every stroke hit that spot inside me that made rational thought impossible. My eyes fluttered closed, overwhelmed by sensation.
“Look at me.” Hayes’s voice was gentle but firm. “Eyes open, Shay. I want to see you.”
I forced my eyes open, meeting his gaze. What I saw there stole my breath—not just desire, but something deeper. Something that made my chest tight and my throat close up.
He continued his slow, torturous pace, each thrust long and devastating. His free hand roamed my body—cupping my breast, trailing down my side, slipping between us to find my clit. When his thumb pressed against it, circling in time with his thrusts, I nearly sobbed from the intensity.
“That’s it,” he murmured, watching my face. “Let me take care of you.”
