"God, yes," I pant, my hand tightening in her hair. "Just like that. You're so—fuck—so good at this."
She hums in response, and the sensation makes my knees almost buckle. I'm getting close, too close, pleasure building at the base of my spine like a coiled spring. My hand tightens in her hair, and I'm fucking her mouth. Tears stream down her cheeks as she chokes on my length, and still she doesn't pull away. She takes it, takes everything I give her.
"I'm going to come," I warn her, and she doubles down, her hands gripping me tighter as her tongue does something that makes stars burst behind my eyelids, and I'm right there, right on the edge, about to fall, and I pull her up by her hair. She comes up with a gasp, her lips swollen and red, her eyes dark with arousal.
"Why?" The word is almost a whine, and seeing her like this, wanting me, frustrated that I stopped her, is almost as devastating as what she was just doing.
"Not here," I rasp, my voice completely wrecked. "Not like this."
"But I want?—"
"I know what you want." I capture her mouth, tasting myself on her tongue. "But the first time you make me come…" I pull back to look at her, needing her to see how serious I am. "It's going to be inside you where I can watch you fall apart."
"Then take me to bed."
I don't need to be told twice. I lift her, her legs wrapping instinctively around my waist, and carry her out of the shower. We're both dripping wet, leaving a trail of water across the bathroom floor.
"We're making a mess," she says breathlessly.
"I don't give a damn."
I shoulder through the doorway, and we're back in the bedroom. The morning light filters through the curtains, illuminating the room and the scattered pillows still on the floorwhere they fell. I lay her down on the mattress, and she looks better than any fantasy I've ever had.
"No more walls," I say, settling between her thighs.
She pulls me down to her. "No more pretending."
"No more running," I add, and she nods.
"I'm done running." Her hand cups my face. "I want this. I want you."
I kiss her deeply, slowly, pouring everything I haven't been able to say into it.
"Then let me worship you properly," I murmur against her lips. "Let me show you what it means to be mine." I kiss her again, deeper, claiming her mouth in a way that leaves no room for doubt. When I pull back, I brush wet hair from her face, studying her. "You're scared."
She doesn't deny it this time. Just holds my gaze, and I can see the vulnerability there, the fear warring with want.
"You're already trying to figure out how to pretend this didn't happen," I say softly, tracing the curve of her jaw. "How to rebuild your walls after." Her eyes flash with something not quite defiance. She opens her mouth to protest then closes it. "Too late, sweetheart." I kiss her throat, feeling her pulse race beneath my lips. "Way too late."
"Arrogant," she breathes, but her hands are sliding up my back, pulling me closer despite her words.
"You knew what I was when you married me." I work my way down, kissing the valley between her breasts. "Knew exactly what you were getting into."
"This wasn't part of the arrangement."
"No. This is so much better." I take a nipple into my mouth, and she arches into me with a sultry moan. "This is real, and it terrifies you." She doesn't respond with words. Instead, her eyes meet mine, and in them I see the admission. This terrifies her,but she's here anyway. "That's my girl," I murmur against her skin, and I feel her shiver.
I work my way down her stomach, pressing kisses to each trembling muscle, and when I settle between her thighs, she doesn't protest. Just watches me with dark, hungry eyes.
"Look how ready you are," I murmur, pressing kisses to her inner thigh. "Your body knows who it belongs to."
She could snap back at me. Instead, she just bites her lip, a tiny, almost imperceptible movement that sends heat straight through me.
I lower my mouth to her, and the first taste nearly undoes me. My tongue traces her slowly at first, learning the shape of her, but my restraint fractures when she gasps my name. I dive deep, my tongue pushing inside her as she arches off the bed. I thought I could go slow, savor this, but I've wanted this too long. She tastes like everything I've been craving.
Her hand finds my hair, fingers threading through and tightening when I find a rhythm that makes her thighs quake. She's not directing, just holding on, anchoring herself as soft, desperate sounds spill from her lips and drive me insane.
She's close already. I can feel it in the way her thighs tremble against my shoulders, the way her breathing becomes shallow and erratic, the way her hips roll, seeking more. But I don't let her fall. Not yet. Every time she gets close, when her body goes taut and her breath catches, I pull back, gentling my touch to featherlight brushes until she's writhing beneath me, her fingers flexing in my hair, wordlessly begging.
