Using my tongue until she arched off the cushions.
Her breaths came quicker, and I had to press my hips into the couch to relieve some of the pressure in my groin.
And then I ate. She clearly dug it. This was obvious both from the sounds she made and from the way her fingers threaded in my hair to push my tongue deeper.
I got her right to the edge again, her internal muscles tight and ready.
Then I stopped.
She let out a garbled cry as I sat—ass to ankles—and stroked myself, enjoying the view. Then I was over the top of her, aligned with her body, my erection pressing into the space between her thighs.
I threaded my gaze with hers, letting them mingle with anticipation, waiting for her to give me the green light that she was still good with this.
She reached with her thumb to trace the bottom of my lip. "Yes, Sloan."
That's all the permission I needed. Gently seating myself inside her, I reveled in the feeling of her tight warmth wrapped around the hard length of me.
I never broke the thread of our gazes, keeping track of her, ensuring things were still working for her.
Her eyes went wide when I buried myself to the hilt, so I stilled, letting her adjust to me, until she nudged me on with her hips.
Wet and ready and mine, I thrust inside and pulled nearly out. Then on repeat. All while murmuring how gorgeous she was, how perfect she felt, how amazing I thought she was, until her breathing shifted and she made a little mewl right before she climaxed.
I kept the tempo steady, but when her muscles clenched around me, I let myself fall along with her. Letting out a growl or a roar, or maybe both? It was hard to tell who made which noises.
Even as the aftershocks subsided, she didn't release her grip on me. Holding me against her. Her face buried in my neck.
"I think I'm still coming," she said, against my skin. "How did you…?"
I would've moved so we could see each other, but she still had that killer grip on me and after coming like that, I couldn't find the strength to move.
"Delayed gratification," I said into the couch cushion.
She loosened her grip on me so I could roll over—my side to her front.
"Next time, let me come the first time, so you don't have to wait," she whispered with a sly smile.
"Baby, you're mine, and that means you'll come when I'm ready for you to come," I said.
"You're good at this," she announced.
That was a compliment, so I'd take it. "Thanks."
"I don't just mean the sex part—although you are exceptional at that. I mean, total gold-star worthy."
She seemed so serious with this declaration that I couldn't help it. I grinned.
"I mean the rest of it, too. The whole gig here. You're good at the whole attentive thing."
"Okay," I said, because I wasn't sure what a guy was supposed to say to that. She made it easy. It's not like I had to try.
We lay there together, tangling and untangling our hands while staring outside. I lost myself in the landscape stretching beyond the window.
Maya’s voice was soft and inviting as she said, "This place means a lot to you, doesn't it?"
I nodded. "It's more than just land and a house," I began, my voice barely above a whisper.
"This place is your Las Vegas at night, isn't it?" she asked, facing me, brushing the hair away from my forehead. "It's your field during a game."
