I feel my orgasm building, the familiar tingling sensation growing at the base of my spine. But I don’t want to come like this. So, I take her wrist, stilling her movements, and her forehead comes to rest on mine. “Everything okay?”
Smiling, I whisper in her ear. “I did some research, and I found something I’d like to try.”
She leans back to look at me and raises an eyebrow, a playful smile gracing her lips. “What kind of research?” she asks, her tone teasing. “Oliver, did you watch porn?”
I chuckle, shaking my head, the corners of my mouth tugging into a smile as I push another strand of stray hair behind her ear. “It’s from a romance book,” I confess, feeling a bit sheepish as the words leave my lips.
She groans before whispering, “Why are you so perfect?”
You’re fucking perfect.
“So, you’re willing to try?” I ask, my heart pounding, anticipation thrumming through my veins.
She pulls back, her brow furrowing in that endearingly quizzical way. “Try what exactly?”
“I want to taste you,” I murmur, my tone dropping as I lean in closer. “I want to savor you while you sit on my face.”There, I said it.
Her breath hitches, and a flush creeps up her neck. “Oliver, that’s…” she starts, her voice trailing off as she searches for the right words. “I’ve never done that before. It’s not something you have to do. It’s… more of a thing guys do in books.”
Oh, I bet Grey and Misha would disagree with that statement.
I reach up and cup her cheek, tracing the soft curve of her jaw with my thumb.
“Are you telling me no because you genuinely don’t want to?” I can’t quite tell, but I would never make her do anything she doesn’t want.
She hesitates, her gaze dropping to my chest as she considers her response. “I… I didn’t tell you no,” she finally whispers when her eyes come back up to mine.
“Perfect.” I grin, removing my glasses and placing them on her nightstand, but I pause when she doesn’t move.
Maybe if we both see a little blurry, it will help with the nerves.
I reach up to take her glasses off as well, setting them right next to mine. Then, with a gentle nudge, I guide her to straddle my face as her hands find purchase on the headboard.
There’s a moment of stillness, a suspended breath, as she looks down at me, uncertainty flickering in her stormy blue eyes.
I meet that storm with my own and say, “Come here,” with such conviction that any lingering doubts she might have evaporate.
Her breath hitches as I pull her down. The first touch of my lips against her sends a jolt through both of us. I kiss and lick and suck, losing myself in her taste, the feel of her squirming against my face, and the sounds of her pleasure that grow louder, more insistent with each passing second. My hands grip her hips, guiding her movements as I focus on her clit, teasing it with the tip of my tongue, relishing the way her body responds to my touch.
“Oh my God, Oliver,” she gasps out, her body trembling above me. “Don’t stop… please, don’t stop.”
I have no intention of stopping.
I want to bring her to the brink and watch her fall apart, to be the one who makes her feel good, who makes her forget abouteverything else except for this moment. It’s a powerful feeling to hold someone’s pleasure in your hands—or, in this case, on your tongue—to be the source of their ecstasy.
Herecstasy.
No one else’s.
The sound of her whimpering, the desperate need in her voice, spurs me on. My fingers dig into her hips, pulling her harder against my mouth as her taste becomes my sole obsession, a craving that could very well become an addiction.
I tease, I lap, I graze. Working her closer to that cliff until her whole body stiffens above me, and then…
… she comes.
Hard.
A rush saturates my chin with her essence as her scream fills the room, the vibration of her release trembling through her into me. For a moment, she’s in pure, blissful stasis.
