One hand releases my thigh, sliding up to press against my entrance. A finger circles there, gathering wetness, then pushes inside slowly. The intrusion combined with his mouth makes my vision blur.
"Oh gods?—"
He works that finger deeper, crooking it to stroke some spot inside that makes stars explode behind my eyes. Then adds a second, stretching me, filling me while his tongue continues its relentless assault on my clit.
Pressure builds low in my belly, coiling tighter and tighter. I'm making sounds I've never made before—desperate, needy whimpers and gasps. My thighs are shaking, trying to close around his head but his shoulders keep me open.
"That's it." He pulls back just long enough to encourage me. "Let go. Come for me, starlight. Want to feel you fall apart on my tongue."
He sucks my clit into his mouth at the same moment his fingers stroke that perfect spot inside, and I shatter.
The orgasm crashes over me in waves, stealing my breath, my voice, my ability to think. I come hard against his mouth, crying out his name while he works me through it, tongue gentling but never stopping.
Just when I think it's over, when the waves start to recede, he doubles down. Sucking harder, fingers moving faster, driving me straight into another peak before I've recovered from the first.
"Valas—wait—I can't—" I try to pull him up, hands tugging desperately at his hair.
He catches my wrists with his free hand, pinning them against the desk while his mouth continues its devastation. When he pulls back this time, his lips are slick, eyes wild.
"You wanted me to touch you." His voice is absolutely wrecked. "So that's what I'm doing. Just this. All of this."
"But—" Protest dies on my lips as he drags his tongue up my center again, slow and deliberate. "Oh fuck?—"
"Not yet." He punctuates the words with licks, with the curl of his fingers inside me. "I just want to make you come. Again and again until you're boneless and satisfied."
The idea of it—of him drawing this out, wringing multiple orgasms from my body—should seem like too much. But my traitorous body clenches around his fingers, already climbing toward another peak.
"See?" Satisfaction colors his tone. "Your body knows what it wants. Knows it can take more."
He's right. Gods help me, he's right. I'm already so close again, hypersensitive from the first orgasm but craving another with desperate intensity.
He releases my wrists to grip my thighs, spreading me wider. Holds me open while he feasts, and there's no other word for it. He's devouring me like a man starved, groaning against my flesh like my pleasure is his own.
The sounds he makes push me higher. Deep, satisfied rumbles that vibrate through me. He's getting off on this, on making me fall apart, and that knowledge is intoxicating.
"You're so responsive." He licks around his own fingers where they're buried inside me. "So wet for me. I could spend all night right here."
"Can't—" The protest is weak, unconvincing even to my own ears. "It's too much?—"
"Not enough." His thumb joins the assault, circling my clit while his tongue pushes inside alongside his fingers. "Never enough. Want to ruin you for anyone else. Want you to remember this every time you see me."
His words, combined with the relentless stimulation, shove me over the edge again. This orgasm is harder than the first, almost painful in its intensity. I come with a broken cry, thighs clamping around his head, entire body going rigid with pleasure.
He groans like he's found his own release, mouth working me through every aftershock while I shake and gasp above him. When I finally go limp, boneless and wrung out, he gentles his touch. Soft kisses pressed to inner thighs, fingers sliding free carefully.
I collapse back on the desk, chest heaving, unable to form coherent thought. My entire body feels like melted wax, warm and pliant and thoroughly used.
Valas rises slowly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes are molten, lips swollen and glistening. He looks absolutely debauched and impossibly pleased with himself.
"Good?" The question is casual but I hear the need beneath it. The desire for confirmation that he satisfied me.
"I—" My voice is hoarse, wrecked. "I don't have words. That was—why did I resist this?"
His smile is sharp, triumphant. "Because you're stubborn and cautious and far too sensible for your own good."
"Clearly not sensible enough." I gesture weakly at our current position—me sprawled across his desk, skirts rucked up, thoroughly ravished. "Sensible people don't do this."
"Fuck sensible." He leans down, capturing my mouth in a kiss that tastes like me, like us. "I want you wild and wanting. I want you exactly like this."
