"You like me watching you?" I asked.
She nodded, unable to form words.
"Good. Because I'm gonna be watching you a lot from now on." I stepped closer, my hand covering hers, guiding her movements. "Faster."
She whimpered, her hips bucking as we worked together, her fingers and mine rubbing her clit in tandem.
"Romelo, I'm gonna?—"
"Not yet," I said, pulling her hand away. "When you cum, it's gonna be on my tongue."
Before she could protest, I dropped to my knees in front of her, my face level with her pussy.
I looked up at her one more time, making sure she was with me. "You good?"
She nodded frantically. "Please."
That was all the permission I needed.
I leaned in and dragged my tongue from her entrance to her clit in one long, slow lick. She cried out, her thighs trembling on either side of my head.
"Fuck, you taste good," I groaned, doing it again, this time swirling my tongue around her clit before sucking it into my mouth.
Her hands flew to my head, her nails scratching at my scalp as she tried to hold on.
I ate her pussy like I was starving—licking, sucking, biting gently, using every trick I knew to drive her wild.
"Oh my God," she gasped, her hips grinding against my face. "Oh my God, Romelo, don't stop."
I had no intention of stopping.
I slid two fingers inside her while my mouth focused on her clit, and she screamed—actually screamed—her entire body going rigid as her orgasm hit.
I didn't let up. I kept licking, kept fingering, drawing it out as long as possible until she was shaking and begging me to stop.
"Too much," she whimpered. "It's too much."
I finally pulled back, my face wet with her juices, and grinned up at her. "You good?"
She nodded weakly, her chest heaving. "Yeah. I'm good."
"Good," I said, standing up. "Because we're not done yet."
I scooped her up off the island—one arm under her knees, the other around her back—and carried her through the house toward my bedroom.
She wrapped her arms around my neck, her head resting on my shoulder. "Where are we going?"
"To finish what we started," I said simply.
"Romelo, I don't know if I can?—"
"You can," I assured her. "And you will. I'm gonna take care of you, Juicy. Trust me."
She was quiet for a moment, then: "Okay."
That single word—that small act of trust—meant more to me than she probably realized.
I pushed open my bedroom door with my foot and carried her inside, laying her down gently on the bed. The sheets were cool against her heated skin, and she shivered slightly.
