My fingers tighten in his hair when he exhales against me, a warm, damp breath that brushes exactly where I’m already aching. The sound that leaves me is humiliatingly soft. He hears it. His hands slide up the backs of my thighs, spreading me open farther, thumbs pressing into skin hard enough to keep me there.
And then his mouth is on me.
The first lick is slow enough to be cruel.
Sucking in air so fast it burns, his tongue drags up through me in one long stroke, the obscene intimacy of it nearly taking my legs out from under me. Groaning at the taste of me before he even comes back for more, the sound is full of hunger. I feel it vibrate straight through my center.
“Oh my god-”
He does it again.
And again.
Each pass slower than I can stand, as if he’s learning me all over, as if two weeks apart has only made him greedier. His tongue flattens over me, then narrows, then circles the place that makes my body jerk. His grip on my thighs tightens instantly, holding me open when my legs try to close around his head.
Looking down once, I regret it immediately.
He is devastating like this. Kneeling at my feet in nothing but those sweats, chest bare, glistening faintly from the steam, face buried between my thighs like this is exactly where he belongs. His hair is a mess under my hands. His shoulders flex every time he moves his mouth. He looks like something holy dragged through ruin.
The sound he makes when I tug his hair is enough to shatter me.
He likes it.
I know he likes it because he groans and licks deeper, because his fingers dig into my thighs harder, because his mouth gets messier after that, more determined, more ravenous. The wet sounds fill the room, slick, impossible to ignore over the rush of water. My head tips back against the tile, my chest heaving.
I can’t find enough air.
Sucking in a gasp once he sucks on my clit, my vision flickers.
Easing off just enough to lick through me again, his tongue slides lower, then back up, circling with a patience that feelsvicious. He does not rush. That’s what ruins me. He knows exactly how to keep me hovering there, wanting more, trembling for it.
“Silas,” I breathe, fingers twisting tighter in his hair.
He answers by pressing his face closer, mouth opening on me like he’s starving. The sound that tears out of him at the taste is so wrecked I almost cum from that alone. My thighs tighten around his shoulders. Holding me steady, he keeps eating me, relentless now, every stroke of his tongue more focused than the one before.
The steam clings to my skin. The tile is cool against my back. His mouth is hot between my legs and all I can do is stand there shaking while he devours me like he has wanted to do this every second of the last two weeks.
My hips start moving before I can stop them.
At first it’s only a helpless rock forward, a shallow chase for more pressure, more of his tongue, more of the obscene heat of his mouth dragging through me. Then he groans into me, the sound snapping whatever fragile restraint I had left. I start bucking against his face in earnest, chasing the pleasure with frantic little thrusts that make my thighs shake.
He doesn’t stop me.
He holds me there.
His hands lock harder around the backs of my thighs, fingers digging in just enough to keep me spread open while I grind against his mouth like I’m out of my mind. The wet sounds turn louder...messier. Every time my hips jerk he answers with another long lick, another rough suck at my clit that sends sparks exploding behind my eyes.
“Silas-” My voice cracks apart. “Silas, I-”
He knows.
He drives me there on purpose, tongue flattening over me, then narrowing, then circling my clit with merciless precisionuntil the pressure in my stomach turns white-hot. My hand fisted in his hair goes tight enough to hurt. He just groans again, the vibration of it tipping me over.
The orgasm tears through me so fast I can’t even catch a breath around it. My whole body jerks, back arching, knees trying to close around his head as heat spills out of me in pulsing waves. A broken sound rips from my throat while I shake through it, my hips still rocking weakly into his mouth because I can’t stop, can’t think, can’t do anything but feel. He stays there through every shudder, taking it, swallowing it, letting me cum all over his mouth while the bathroom spins around me.
When it finally loosens its grip enough for me to breathe again, he rises.
The movement is quick, almost dizzying. One second he’s on his knees between my legs, face wet with me, lips swollen and parted; the next he’s standing over me, grabbing my hips hard enough to steady me before my legs can fold. My chest is heaving. My fingers are still uselessly tangled in his hair.
