He takes my breasts into his mouth, one by one, his tongue circling each nipple until they harden to tight peaks. He sucks gently at first, then with more pressure that sends electric currents straight between my legs. I gasp when he grazes his teeth lightly across one sensitive tip, and arch my back, fingers tangling in his hair to hold him there as he toggles back and forth, from one nipple to the other, leaving nothing untasted. “God, I want you. I love everything I see. You don’t need to worryabout descriptors like small or big, Charlie. The only one that matters is ‘mine.’You’re mine.”
I nod in agreement, relaxing my shoulders, no longer trying to hide from him. “I want to be yours.”
He pulls back just enough to look at me, his eyes searching mine for any trace of doubt. Whatever he finds there must satisfy him, because he nods slowly. “Good.”
“Can I?” I say, tugging at the hem of his shirt.
He pulls it off, and then it’s my turn to stare. I’ve seen him shirtless before, but not like this—not with firelight dancing across the ridges of his abs, not with a thin sheen of sweat making his skin glisten, not with the muscles in his shoulders flexing as he leans toward me. The V-line of his hips disappears temptingly into his waistband, and my fingers itch to trace it downward.
He catches the flicker in my eyes, then in one motion, he shifts me off his lap and onto my back, so I’m pillowed by a mountain of down and enfolded by the fort’s tented walls. Taio hovers above, caging me with his arms, and for a second, I can’t breathe from how intensely he’s looking at me—like he’s working up his own courage.
The waistband of my underwear—the one piece of armor I have left—is easily conquered by his thumbs. He peels them down, slow, reverent. He trails them past my knees, tossing them behind him, and then brings his mouth to the slope of my stomach.
“Careful. I’m going to get addicted to this,” I warn as his kisses trail south.
“Get addicted. I’m going to do it every single time.”
He holds my hips, thumbs pressing into the hollows beside my hip bones as he works lower. His hot breath fans across my inner thighs, making me tremble. I lift my hips, desperate for his mouth, but he pins me in place with a firm grip.
He murmurs something incomprehensible, his voice rough with desire. His tongue traces a slow, deliberate path along the crease where my thigh meets my center, so close yet not close enough. I whimper, my fingers clutching at the blankets. When he finally drags his tongue through my slick folds and closes his mouth over my pulsing clit, the jolt of pleasure is so concentrated, I shatter instantly against his hungry mouth.
But he doesn’t stop. Not for a second. Before I’ve even finished gasping out his name, he hooks two fingers inside me. The stretch is new, but his patience is infinite, his touch so careful I want to cry. He works them slowly, curling them just so, finding some hidden place that makes fireworks burst behind my eyes. My body is a live wire, every nerve ending burning for him, my limbs jittering in the warm enclosure of our bodies.
“I want to make you feel good, Charlie,” he whispers, the promise so raw it reverberates deep inside me. I try to say yes, or please, or Taio—anything to let him know I’m still conscious—but the words collapse in my throat. All I can do is press my hips closer, seeking more.
He returns his mouth to me, lips sealing over the desperate ache at my center while his fingers keep working, soft and relentless. The pressure builds fast, then impossibly faster, and this time when I come it’s not a shudder or a sigh but a tidal wave, a full-body surge that leaves me sobbing against his head, clutching his shoulders like I’ll die if I let go. He stays with me through it, mouth and hands gentle and sure, coaxing every last ripple from me until all that’s left is the afterglow, a trembling hush that fills every cell.
He crawls up to kiss me, and I taste myself on his tongue, sweet and unfamiliar.
We sit side by side, his arm around me, holding me close as if escape was on my mind. “Hey,” he says, voice gentle. “We don’t have to do more tonight if you don’t want. You lead.”
“Taio, I’ve been waiting for you for so much longer than you can imagine. I want more.” I reach for his waistband, fingers bunching the elastic, and pull him close enough that he can see exactly how much I mean it. He shudders, a full-body tremor, like he’s barely containing a hurricane.
I tug his shorts down, and he helps, kicking them off until they’re lost among the pillows. I try to play it cool, but the look on my face must give away my awe because he laughs—low and a little nervous, so unlike the cocky veneer he wears for everyone else.
“You’re likebig,big,” I say.
I mean, it’s not like I’ve never seen a dick before. I’m not an alien. I’ve seen my fair share in health-class textbooks and in the sort of blurry, late-night internet research that’s inevitable if you have even a passing interest in sex. But I’ve never had one unveiled with the explicit intention of encountering it, up close, with my own hands and mouth and eventually, actual body. And I’ve definitely never seen one likethis.
I tug his briefs down with all the finesse of someone opening a stubborn jar of pickles. Taio’s surprised grunt is half amusement, half arousal.
He’s…intimidating. His cock springs free with an enthusiasm that can only be described as athletic, and for a heartbeat—maybe two—I just stare at it, realizing I am utterly unequipped for this phase of the journey. I have to recalibrate all my expectations. I mean, Jesus, is that what regular dicks even look like? Should I have trained for this? Is there like, a yoga pose for this? Will I survive it?
Taio chuckles again, but softer. “Hey. Hey, up here.” He tips my chin so I meet his eyes. There’s a blush in his cheeks, and vulnerability behind the grin. “Don’t look so scared. We’re going to go really slow.”
I want to be smooth. I want to come up with some sultry quip, but what comes out is, “It’s just…a lot…of dick. You’re bigger than The Detonator.”
He smirks at me. “Have you been doing comparative research?”
I flush. Okay, I maybe tested the vibration.Briefly. For science.“I needed details for my five-star review. I was trying to help the company.”
Taio laughs. “We’ll come back to that. First…” He leans over and finds a black Trojan packet he stashed under some pillows. With a look that pins me in place, he tears it open with his teeth, never breaking eye contact as he rolls the condom over his length with practiced grace.
His hands find my knees and gently urge them farther apart, spreading me open beneath the fairy-lit ceiling of our fortress. Taio settles between my thighs, balancing his weight on his forearms so his face is level with my center. He watches, entranced, as if cataloguing every micro-tremor of anticipation, every flutter of my breath. The head of his cock nudges experimentally against me—not entering, just grazing the slick heat gathered there, smearing it back and forth with a patience that feels like torture.
He doesn’t go in. Not all at once. Instead, he drags the tip up and down, teasing, gathering wetness, his mouth silently worshipping the shiver of my body. It feels like he’s painting me, signing his name on every nerve ending. I bend toward him, eager, but he pulls back, grinning at my frustration.
“Just wait,” he croons, so featherlight it almost undoes me. “I need you a little wetter.” Then, instead of moving forward, he slides down my body, and I feel the rush of his breath, the damp warmth of his lips as he licks a slow stripe up my inner thigh and thenrightto where I need him most. Like he’s the one addicted, the one who can’t get enough, he licks again, and again, tongueworking in purposeful, hungry circles, the kind of voracious you only read about in banned books.
