"That's a first."
He laughs. The sound is rough, breathless, and so fucking beautiful that it makes my heart ache. Then his hands are on my hips, flipping me onto my back, and he's looming over me with a look in his eyes that makes my breath catch.
"Your turn," he says.
"You don't have to..."
"I know. I want to." He throws my own words back at me, and I feel a flush creep up my cheeks. "Besides. I owe you."
"You don't owe me anything."
"Then consider this interest." He kisses me. Deep and slow, tasting himself on my lips, not seeming to mind. "Compound interest. Accrued over weeks of wanting to do this in the morning and not having the time."
He kisses down my body. My throat. My collarbone. The swell of my breasts, already aching for attention. He takes one nipple into his mouth and sucks, and I arch off the bed, gasping.
"Sensitive this morning," he murmurs against my skin.
"Shut up."
"Make me."
I grab for his hair, but he's already moving lower, kissing down my stomach, nuzzling into the soft skin below my navel. His hands slide up my thighs, spreading them, making room for his shoulders.
"I've been thinking about this too," he says, echoing my earlier words. "About how you taste. About the sounds you make when you come on my tongue."
"Oh my Godddd."
"Shh. Daddy will do just fine." He presses a kiss to my inner thigh.
His mouth finds me.
I cry out. Can't help it. His tongue traces through my folds, licking me the way I did him, and the sensation is overwhelming. Too much and not enough at the same time.
He takes his time. Licks and sucks and explores, finding the spots that make me gasp, the rhythm that makes me moan. He's good at this. Better than good. He’s been studying me for weeks and has become an expert on what I need and when.
"There," I manage, when his tongue circles my clit. "Right there, don't stop, don't..."
He doesn't stop. He focuses on that spot, that perfect spot, and adds his fingers, sliding two inside me, curling upward, and the dual sensation is so intense I see stars.
"Come for me," he says against my flesh. "Let me taste you."
I shatter.
The orgasm crashes through me in waves, my back arching, my thighs clamping around his head, my hands fisting in the sheets. I cry out his name, moans, sighs, incoherent and desperate, and he works me through it, letting me come down, pressing soft kisses to my inner thighs while I tremble and gasp.
He crawls back up my body. Settles between my legs. I can feel him hard again, already, pressing against my entrance.
"Again?" I manage, still breathless.
"I told you." He kisses me, and I taste myself on his lips. "Interest. Compound interest."
He pushes inside, the tip of his cock working in, inch by inch as my breath catches. I fucking love this feeling. Being stuffed full of him.
A raspy groan escapes me, my chest rattling with the force of it.
"I love you," he says. "I don't say it enough. I'm not good at saying it. But I love you, Alexandra. More than I've ever loved anything."
"I love you too." I pull him down, press my forehead to his. "Now show me."
