He pulled them down my legs. Tossed them somewhere. And then his hand was between my thighs, cupping me, and I whimpered against his mouth.
"You're soaked." His voice had dropped an octave, rough and growly. "God, Willow. You're?—"
His finger slid through my folds. Found my clit. Circled.
My hips bucked. "Callum?—"
"Right here." Another circle. Slower. "Tell me what feels good."
"That. That feels—" He pressed harder and I lost the sentence. "More. I need more."
He gave me more. One finger sliding inside me while his thumb kept working my clit, a rhythm that had me writhing beneath him. I was making sounds I'd never made before—desperate, keening things that should have embarrassed me but didn't, not when his eyes were dark and hungry and fixed on my face as if he wanted to memorize every reaction.
"Another," I gasped. "Please?—"
A second finger joined the one already inside me. He curled them, found a spot that made stars explode behind my eyes.
"There?"
"There, there, don't stop?—"
He didn't stop. He fucked me with his fingers, deep and deliberate, his thumb relentless on my clit. The pressure built, coiling tighter, and I was close, so close?—
He pulled his hand away.
"What—" I practically sobbed. "Why did you?—"
"I want to taste you when you come."
He slid down my body before I could respond. Settled between my thighs. Looked up at me with those gray eyes gone black.
"Okay?"
"If you don't put your mouth on me in the next three seconds, I'm going to?—"
His tongue licked a stripe through my center and the threat died in my throat.
He ate me with single-minded focus. No teasing, no preamble—just his mouth on me, tongue working my clit with a dedication that bordered on obscene. My hands flew to his hair, fisting, holding him in place as my hips rolled against his face.
He moaned against me. The vibration shot straight to my core.
"Callum—I'm?—"
He sucked my clit into his mouth. Slid two fingers back inside me. Curled them.
I shattered.
The orgasm tore through me, my back bowing off the bed, his name ripping from my throat. He didn't let up—kept licking, kept stroking, drawing out every wave until I was shaking and oversensitive and pulling at his hair to make him stop.
He kissed his way back up my body. I tasted myself on his lips and moaned into his mouth.
"Good?" he asked, and the bastard was smiling.
"Get inside me."
"Condom—"
"Hurry."
