When he finally came undone beneath my hands and mouth, it was sudden and intense, his body going taut before surrendering to it.
I sat back slightly, watching him recover, satisfaction curling in my chest.
“Well,” he said at last, breath still uneven. “That hardly seems fair.”
I arched a brow, unable to hide my satisfaction.
“Consider it repayment.”
His gaze sharpened. “Repayment.”
“For all the times you’ve left me trembling,” I clarified softly.
A slow, dangerous smile curved his mouth.
“Careful,” he murmured. “You sound very confident.”
Before I could retreat, he moved.
In one fluid motion, I was on my back, breath stolen as he hovered over me. His hands skimmed down my body with deliberate familiarity.
“You look proud of yourself,” he said against my skin.
“Maybe I am.”
He kissed lower. Slowly. Testing.
And when he reached the place I needed him most, he didn’t give it to me.
He teased.
My hand moved instinctively, but he caught my wrist with ease.
“No shortcuts,” he murmured.
When he finally relented, the world narrowed to sensation. He knew exactly how to unravel me. Every shift, every deliberate motion drew something different from my throat. My body arched, thighs tightening as pleasure built, sharp and consuming.
When I finally shattered beneath him, he didn’t stop immediately.
He never did.
When I came back to myself, trembling and breathless, he lifted his head, eyes gleaming.
“I believe that settles the score.”
“Don’t be insufferable,” I said, though my voice lacked conviction.
His gaze drifted lower, slow and deliberate.
“You’re not finished.”
My pulse stuttered. “That doesn’t mean you get to win.”
He leaned down, his mouth brushing mine, not quite a kiss. A warning.
“That’s not how this ends.”
The heat in his expression shifted, no longer playful but intent. Focused.
