His hand tightens in my hair, tugging just enough to send a shiver down my spine.
I don't speak. I can't.
Instead, I pull at his cut, peeling it off his broad shoulders. He shrugs out of it, letting it drop to the floor with a heavy thud.
Underneath, his shirt clings to his muscled chest, tattoos peeking at the collar. My fingers fumble with the hem, pulling it up and over his head.
He watches me, a low growl building in his throat as I trace the ridges of his abs, feeling the power coiled there.
Then his hands are on me, large and callused, gripping the bottom of my shirt. He strips it off in one swift motion, unclips my bra, exposing my breasts to the cool air. My nipples harden instantly, and he stares, hunger flashing in his eyes.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs, cupping one breast, thumb circling the peak roughly.
I arch into his touch, a soft moan escaping. His jeans press against my thigh, the bulge there unmistakable, straining against the denim. But he doesn't rush.
Instead, he hooks his fingers into my pants and shoves them down, taking my panties with them. I step out, kicking them aside, fully bare now, my eyes locked on his as vulnerability mixes with want.
He strips next, efficient, like everything he does.
Jeans shoved down. Black briefs clinging to thick thighs. His cock tents the fabric, hard and ready. He kicks them off, stepping out of everything.
He guides me back toward the couch, but doesn't let me sit. Instead, he sinks to his knees on the rug, pulling me down with him until I'm perched on the edge, legs spread wide.
The couch cushions my back as he positions himself between my thighs, hands gripping my hips, thumbs digging in just enough to bruise.
“Let me take care of you first, love,” he says, voice low and commanding.
His breath fans over my pussy, already slick with arousal. I nod, threading my fingers through his short-cropped hair, feeling the faint scar near his temple under my touch.
He dives in without warning, mouth hot and insistent. His tongue flattens against my folds, licking a long, slow stripe from entrance to clit. I gasp, hips bucking, the sensation electric—wet, warm pressure that makes my toes curl.
He growls against me, the vibration shooting straight to my core, as he laps at my juices, tasting me like he's starved.
One hand slides up my thigh, spreading me wider, while the other kneads the soft flesh of my ass.
His tongue circles my clit, teasing the nub before sucking it between his lips—hard, pulling a cry from my throat.
I'm curvy, full, and he handles me like he loves every inch, rough edges of his beard scraping my inner thighs. He slides his tongue inside me, shallow thrusts that make me writhe.
“Fuck, you taste good,” he mutters, pulling back just enough to speak, his lips glistening.
Then two fingers join, thick and scarred, sliding into my wetness. He curls them, hitting that spot deep inside, pumping in rhythm with his tongue flicking my clit.
Pressure builds fast, coiling tight in my belly. My breaths come in pants, my hair sticking to my sweat-damp skin.
“Please... oh god,” I whimper, legs trembling.
“Come for me,” he demands, voice muffled against my pussy, sucking harder. His fingers thrust deeper, faster, the wet sounds filling the living room.
I shatter, crying out his name as waves crash over me, pussy clenching around his fingers, release soaking his hand and mouth. He doesn't stop, licking me through it, drawing out every pulse until I'm boneless, slumped against the couch.
He moves closer to me then, wiping his chin with the back of his hand, cock throbbing untouched.
His eyes burn with need, but there's tenderness too as he leans down, kissing me softly, letting me taste myself on his lips.
“You're mine now, love” he whispers, rough hand stroking my cheek. “And I'll make sure you never doubt it.”
His words send a fresh wave of heat through me, mixing with the aftershocks still trembling in my limbs.
