The sound is wrecked and helpless. Her thighs start to shake, and her hips twitch with each stroke of my tongue. I slide two fingers into her, and she clenches around them so tight I groan.
“You’re so fucking perfect like this.”
She makes a strangled sound, halfway between a moan and a plea. Her blindfold is still in place. She can’t see me, but her body speaks for her now. There’s no hesitation in it. Just hunger and need and pure, unfiltered trust.
I curl my fingers inside her, pressing to the spot that makes her breath hitch. My mouth never leaves her clit. I suck, flick, and press—working her until her thighs tremble so hard she can barely hold position.
Her back arches.
Then I flatten my tongue and circle the tip of her clit, teasing slowly. Her thighs tremble. My free hand spreads her wider—and I slip my slick finger from her dripping pussy and press it to her tighter hole. She jerks and moans, but I don’t stop. I push it in, knuckle-deep, and start to fuck her there, while my mouth keeps tormenting her clit. I want her shaking, gasping, and unraveling for me—one pulse at a time.
I’ll have to settle for finger-fucking her ass—for now.
But I can’t wait to slide my cock into her tight, puckered hole.
“Bastien…” she gasps.
Her orgasm hits in waves. Her whole body tightens, goes still, and then breaks. She moans, her pussy pulsing against my tongue.
I don’t stop.
I keep going through the aftershocks, licking her gently now, fingers easing back as her moans fade into soft, breathless whimpers.
When I finally pull away, her body goes limp.
Spent, satisfied, and undone by my mouth. Exactly where I want her.
I ease my finger out of her ass, and press a kiss to the inside of her thigh like a benediction.
She doesn’t speak. She doesn’t have to.
I crawl into bed beside her, and this time, I guide her up the mattress with me until we reach the pillows. She follows without a word, limbs loose, body boneless. I peel the covers back, tuck her beneath them, then slide in behind her.
My body curves around hers like it was built for this—like I was made to shield her. To fuck her. To hold her through the fallout.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper against her temple.
She presses back into me, her spine melting to my chest, and everything in me fucking settles. The monster inside me goes quiet for her. For now.
I smooth my palm over her stomach, and her breathing slows. I match it, each inhale syncing with hers like we’re sharing the same lungs. Same pulse. Same need.
Her stillness is the kind that only comes after surrender. No fight left. No edge. Just a body molded to mine like she never wants to move again.
Her hand slides along my forearm, and she grips it.
Possessive as hell.
I rest my chin on her shoulder and close my eyes, the scent of sex and sweat curling into my lungs.
I’ll hold her all night if she lets me.
And if she doesn’t—I’ll hold her anyway.
She falls asleep like she trusts me.
Blindfold still on. Breathing even. Her mouth slightly open against my arm. Every now and then she twitches—little aftershocks rippling through her body.
Terrence needs my help. A woman and her kid are depending onme to do what I always do—slip into the shadows, handle the ugly parts, disappear without a trace.
