The heat of his slick tongue, gently caressing my clit, teasing. The fireworks of sensation, my body melting. AndStark’s own pleasurein response to mine.
The feeling ofhimgetting hard, his arousal like wildfire moving through him, his cock straining as he tastes just how ready I am for him. I moan and squeeze my eyes shut. It’s almost too much.
He pauses with his mouth against me, and I know without asking that the riot of our pleasure rebounding back and forth between us is excessive for him, too. But then he starts to move again, starting with small, languorous sweeps of his tongue.
Heat riots through me, sharp pricks of pleasure so intense they’re almost pain. I’m in him and in myself when his tongue hits mejust rightand my whole body melts.
He fucking loves that he’s the one driving me this wild, and the knowledge keys me up even more.
He pauses, then starts in again, lapping slowly across that perfect spot until I’m cresting that wave of pleasure. Then he pulls back.
Slowly, gently, achingly. Pause. And again. Pause. And again.
I’m drowning in it: the sensation of him keeping me at thatpeak, right there, of intensity, but keeping it slow, so slow. So that I never tip over, just teeter there, my body falling apart under his mouth.
His tongue is my own as he does this to me, and his heady satisfaction is mine. Delicious sensation rockets through me, building and building with no release, echoing in us both.
I gasp at the taste of myself under his mouth, tart and sweet like the strawberries from the castle greenhouse mixed with a delicate white emberwine.
“My favorite flavor,” his voice rumbles in my mind, and I groan, licking my own lips.
I know his actionsbeforehe does them. There’s a split second of anticipation before he moves his tongue again, and then makes me wait, again. And thenfuck—
The moment he decides to reach down and touch himself beneath his pants, his hand stroking roughly. Goddess, it’s so good,so good.
He shares images with me then, of what he’ll do to me once I come, the wet heat of me, the way it’ll feel when he pushes inside—
I’m sobbing and moaning and writhing, insensible of anything but being in Stark’s mind and what he’s stoking in me.
I know the second before he brings his other hand up to touch me. Sense his own excitement as his fingers brush lightly through my folds, swirling through my dripping cunt, then circling my entrance with the pads of his fingers.
Taking his time, enjoying every single sensation his touch is causing in my body. Dipping an index finger in, feeling me clench around it, feeling myself as I am simultaneously filled and ravenous for more.
His tongue moves away for a moment, and I cry out for its loss. But then he’s pushing a second finger inside me and slowly crooking both fingers, just a little, then pulling out, pressing against my walls as I clench around him.
He’s learning the sensation of every single spot inside me, memorizing what it does to me, the heat that floods through me as he crooks his fingers again, a little more this time, and drags the fingertips down. As I near-levitate from the sensation.
His fingers leave me, and I’m too senseless to form words aloud. But he’s right there in my mind, knowing what I wish I could say. His amusement is like a caress.
“Doing okay, princess?”
“Fuck it all, Stark, you knowexactlywhat you’re doing to me,” I manage.
Stark strokeshimself, his arousal and mine mingling until I can’t tell one from the other.
He’s panting now, bringing himself closer so that he’s bringingmecloser, and then he growls and bows his head back down to the apex of my legs, tongue stroking swift and perfect on that spot right there. He shoves both fingers back inside me, fast and hard—and then pulls back.
“I need—I need—”My thoughts are in pieces, words out of reach.
“What do you need, Meryn,” he says aloud. I’m in the movement of his mouth and hate that it’s not on my body. I’m sobbing, nonsensical, riding that edge, feeling his hand move up and down his cock, deeply aware of how hard he is for me.
I can’t put words together, just gasp. But Stark knows. He knows exactly what to do to get me right up to the peak, and he does it. His fingers, his mouth, the gentle brush of histeethon my clit.
That spiraling pressure of pleasure and need and the buildup until—
He slows again. I’m crying now, tears of pleasure and frustration and want that leak down my cheeks and onto the mattress.
“Please, Stark,” I beg him in our minds.
