His lips touch mine and everything else disappears.
The kiss is soft at first. Like he's giving me time to adjust, time to decide if this is really what I want. And then I press closer,part my lips slightly, and he groans into my mouth and the kiss transforms into something else entirely.
His free hand moves to my thigh.
I stop the kiss and gasp.
I'm so fucking soaked I'm genuinely afraid I'm going to drench his couch. I can feel it, the wetness that's been building since he crushed that tracker in his hand, since he pinned Daniel to the wall, since he told me I was his.
"Too fast?" he asks, his voice rough.
I shake my head. Try to form words. "No. I want this. I want this as much as you do. But I need you to know… My body isn't… It's not as beautiful as you might be used to."
"You're beautiful to me," he says immediately. "And I love your curves. Means there's more for me to touch. More to kiss. More to cherish."
The words make my chest tight, make my eyes sting with tears I refuse to let fall. But I'm still unsure. Still scared that when he actually sees me, really sees me, he'll change his mind.
So, I do something absolutely crazy.
I pull off my sweater and toss it to the corner of the couch. Then my bra follows. And I'm sitting there topless in front of him, my breasts fuller and softer than is fashionable, my stomach not flat, and I force myself to meet his eyes.
"Look at me," I say. "Really look. And tell me if you have any second thoughts."
"Second thoughts?" His voice is almost strangled. "I'd be crazy. You look incredible."
And then he's moving.
He drops to his knees in front of me, and the sight of this massive man kneeling before me does something to my brain that I'll need to process later. His hands go to my shoes, pulling them off one at a time. Then he's unbuttoning my jeans, and he leans forward to kiss me while he does it—my mouth, my jaw, my throat—and I'm gasping and arching into him.
He pulls my jeans down and off, tossing them aside. He bites his lower lip, looking at me like I'm something precious, something he wants to devour.
Then he starts kissing my legs.
His mouth is hot against my skin, his lips trailing up from my ankle to my knee to my inner thigh, and his hands position themselves on my inner legs and spread them wider. I let him. I let him spread me open because I trust him and I want this and—
Oh God.
His mouth gets close to my pussy and I arch my back involuntarily.
He doesn't even take my panties off. Just pulls them aside and puts his mouth on me, and my eyes roll back almost immediately.
I have never been touched like this.
Never felt anything like this.
It's fierce, hungry, delicious. He runs his tongue up and down my slit, lapping at me like I'm the best thing he's ever tasted, feasting on me, even sucking my clit gently before releasing it and doing it again.
I grip the couch, trying to endure it, trying to show him that I'm strong enough to resist him.
I can't.
I'm moaning loudly within seconds, asking for more, begging for it, one hand moving to his hair and pulling him closer, burying his face in my soaked pussy because I need more of this, need all of it.
He tightens his grip on my inner thighs, hard enough to leave marks, hard enough that I'll feel it tomorrow, and circles his tongue around my clit.
My whole body seizes up, my back arching off the couch, and then something happens that's never happened before. The pleasure peaks and keeps going and suddenly I'm squirting, a jet of wetness soaking his face, and I'm mortified, absolutely mortified because I've never done this before, never even knew I could.
He stops and looks up at me, his face glistening, and he's smirking.
