"Fuck, look at you," he growls, dropping to his knees at the edge of the bed. "So damn wet for me. I gotta taste this." He grabs my hips, yanking me closer, and I gasp as his hot breath hits my sensitive skin. Before I can say a word, his mouth is on me, tongue dragging slow and deliberate through my folds. My hands clutch the sheets, a sharp moan ripping out of me as he zeros in on my clit, sucking hard.
"Oh, my God," I whimper, my hips bucking up against his face. "Don't—don't stop."
"Wasn't planning to, baby," he mumbles against me, the vibration of his voice making me shudder. He pulls back just enough to look up at me, his lips shiny and wet. "You taste sofuckin' good. Could eat you out all damn day." Then he's back at it, his tongue dipping lower, teasing at my entrance before sliding back up to circle my clit with maddening precision. My thighs tremble, trying to close around his head, but his hands grip them tight, forcing me to stay spread open for him.
"Stay still," he grunts, nipping at my inner thigh. "Let me take my time with this pretty little pussy." His words send a jolt through me, and I'm whining, my fingers tangling in his hair as he sucks my clit again, harder this time. He alternates between long, slow licks and quick, flicking motions, driving me absolutely insane. My breaths come in short, desperate gasps, my body arching off the bed as the pressure builds and builds.
"Please," I beg, barely coherent. "I'm so close—fuck, please."
"Love hearing you beg," he says, voice low and rough as he slips a finger inside me, curling it just right while his tongue keeps working my clit. "Come on, give it to me. Let me feel you come on my face." He adds a second finger, pumping them in and out, the wet sounds mixing with my moans. It's too much, the heat of his mouth, the stretch of his fingers, the way he's watching me fall apart. I cry out, my whole body locking up as the orgasm crashes through me, wave after wave leaving me shaking and gasping.
He doesn't stop, though, not right away. He keeps licking me through it, softer now, drawing out every last shudder until I'm whimpering from the overstimulation. Finally, he pulls back, smirking as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "That's my girl. Fuck, you're a mess now. Let's get you flipped over."
He pushes me down onto my stomach, yanking my hips up so my ass is in the air. My face presses into the sheets, and I feel his hands spread my cheeks, exposing me fully.
"Look at this fuckin' mess," he mutters, dragging a finger through my folds. "You're dripping everywhere. Gonna fuck you like this now."
"Yes, Daddy," I pant, pushing back against him. "Take me. Hard."
I feel the thick head of his cock press against my entrance, and then he's thrusting in, one long, rough stroke that makes me gasp. He doesn't hold back, pounding into me from behind, his hips slapping against my ass with every brutal thrust. My fingers claw at the sheets, my moans muffled as he drives deeper, hitting spots that make my vision blur.
"Fuck, you feel so good," I sob, my body rocking with every slam. "Don't stop. Don't fuckin' stop."
"You like that, huh?" he growls, leaning over me, his chest against my back. One hand slides under me, fingers finding my clit and rubbing fast, ruthless circles. "Gonna make you come again. Squeeze me tight, baby."
I can't hold on. The pressure builds fast with him fucking me raw and playing with my clit like that. My second orgasm crashes through me, harder than the first, and I scream into the sheets, my pussy clamping down on him so tight I feel him groan behind me. My legs shake, giving out, but he holds me up, still thrusting through my spasms.
"That's it," he rasps. "Milk me dry. Fuck."
He pulls out suddenly, and I feel him flip me onto my back again. I'm a limp mess, barely able to move, but he's not done. He grabs my ankles, pushing my legs up and over his shoulders, folding me in half. My pussy's on full display, still throbbing and dripping, and he slides back in with a grunt, the new angle making me cry out. He's so deep it aches, but it's the best kind of pain.
"Look at me," he orders, his voice rough. "Wanna see your face when I fill you up."
I force my eyes open, locking onto his. His jaw's tight, sweat rolling down his temple, and the way he's staring at me—like I'm his to ruin—pushes me over the edge again. I come a third time, weaker but still shattering, whimpering his name as my body jerks under him.
"Lena," he groans, low and broken, and I feel him pulse inside me, hot and thick, as he lets go. His thrusts slowly, dragging out the last of his release, and then he collapses over me, bracing himself on his elbows so he doesn't crush me. We're both panting, slick with sweat, tangled in each other.
For a long moment, neither of us moves. The room's heavy with the scent of sex, our breaths the only sound. Then he pulls out slow, and I wince at the sudden emptiness, my body still hypersensitive. He rolls off me, lying on his back, and pulls me into his side without a word. His arm wraps around me, strong and warm, and I rest my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat slow down.
"You okay?" he murmurs, fingers tracing lazy circles on my shoulder.
"Yeah," I whisper, my voice hoarse. "Just… gimme a sec."
He nods, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead, and reaches over to the nightstand. I hear the rustle of a cloth, and then he's back, gently wiping me down with a damp towel he must've grabbed earlier. The cool fabric soothes my overheated skin, and I let out a small, grateful sigh as he cleans between my thighs with a tenderness that contrasts everything we just did.
"Too much?" he asks, his voice hoarse and soft, almost worried as he sets the towel aside and pulls the blanket over us.
"No," I say, nuzzling closer. "Just right. You always know."
He hums, his hand stroking my hair now, untangling the mess with careful fingers. "Good. I've got you."
We lie there in the quiet, his warmth seeping into me, making my limbs feel heavy and boneless. He grabs a glass of water from the nightstand, helping me sit up a little to sip it. The cold liquid eases my raw throat, and I mutter a quiet thanks before sinking back into his chest. His fingers keep moving through my hair, and I feel safe, cared for, in a way I haven't in a long time. But that feeling… it terrifies me. It's too much, too fast.
"Gabe," I start, my voice barely above a whisper. I sit up slightly, pulling back just enough to look at him. His eyes search mine, waiting. "We gotta take this slow, okay? I'm not… I'm not there yet. I can't rush into anything. This was amazing, but let's not make it more than it is right now."
His brow furrows for a split second, disappointment flickering in his eyes before he masks it. He nods, slow and deliberate, his hand still resting on my back. "Yeah. Okay. Whatever you need."
But inside, my chest tightens with something I can't name. I'm lying to him—and to myself. It's not about taking it slow. I'm fucking scared. Scared of how he makes me feel, scared ofletting him in, scared of losing control of the walls I've spent so long building. I want him—God, I want him—but the thought of opening up, of letting myself fall, has my heart racing for all the wrong reasons.
