He looks up at me from between my knees.
The sight of him there—my beautiful, ruthless husband, hair mussed, eyes black with want—is enough to make me ache.
“Open for me,” he says.
I do. His hands spread my thighs wider, and then his mouth is on me. I clap a hand over my lips as pleasure tears through me. Lorenzo eats me like he has been waiting all day for this, tongue dragging over my clit, lips closing around it, sucking just hard enough to make my hips lift off the bed.
He pins me down with one forearm across my stomach.
The pressure nearly ruins me.
He adds his fingers again, pushing them deep, curling them while his tongue works me with wicked precision. I writhe beneath him, one hand fisted in the sheets, the other buried in his hair.
“Don’t stop,” I breathe.
He hums against me and the vibration sends me spiraling. My thighs tremble around his head. I try to stay quiet, I really do, but the orgasm crashes over me too hard. I turn my face into the pillow and sob his name as I come against his mouth, my body clenching around his fingers.
He doesn’t stop until I’m shaking and so sensitive I can barely take the brush of his tongue. Only then does he lift his head. His mouth is wet. His eyes are merciless.
“Still need me?” he asks.
I laugh, breathless and wrecked. “Don’t be smug.”
He moves up my body, kissing my thigh, my hip, my stomach, my breast, leaving heat everywhere. “I’m very smug.”
“You’re very overdressed.”
His smile turns sharp.
I shove at his pants, and he helps just enough to get them off, kicking them somewhere off the side of the bed. Then he’s naked above me, his cock pressing hot against my inner thigh.
I reach between us and wrap my hand around him.
His jaw clenches as I stroke him slowly, from root to tip, watching the control flicker in his face.
“Elizabeth,” he warns.
“What?”
“You know what.”
I guide him lower, dragging the head of him through my wetness.
His breath leaves him in a rough curse.
I do it again, teasing both of us, letting him catch against my entrance before sliding him back up to my clit. Pleasure sparks through me, sharp and needy, and his hand closes around my wrist.
“Enough.”
The word is rough. Final. He takes himself in hand and presses against me. My thighs fall wider. His gaze locks on mine as he pushes in. Inch by devastating inch. My mouth opens, but no sound comes out. He stretches me open, filling me so deeply my eyes flutter shut. No matter how many times I take him, there is always that first unbearable moment where my body has to remember how to make room for him.
Lorenzo groans when he’s fully seated inside me.
“God,” he whispers. “You feel like heaven.”
I wrap my legs around his waist. “Move.”
He doesn’t make me ask twice. He pulls out and drives back in, deep enough to make the headboard tap the wall. We both freeze. I press my lips together and Lorenzo looks down at me, and for one suspended second, we both almost laugh.
