Liam’s hands slid up my back as his mouth trailed down to my collarbone.
“Touch me,” I begged.
He pulled back just enough to meet my eyes. “Where?”
“Everywhere.”
His grin was sharp, hungry. “That’s a lot of territory, Aves.”
“Then you better get started.”
His hands moved up my sides, thumbs brushing the underswell of my breasts before finally—finally—cupping them fully. I arched into his palms, gasping when his thumbs circled my nipples. They were already hard and sensitive from the cool air and anticipation, and the pressure made sparks shoot down my spine.
“Sensitive here?” he murmured, pinching lightly.
I whimpered instead of answering, which seemed to be response enough. He dipped his head and took one nipple into his mouth, sucking hard enough to make my hips buck against him. His teeth grazed the peak, tongue soothing the sting, and I grabbed his shoulders for balance as the room tilted.
“Liam—” His name came out broken and barely recognizable.
He switched to the other breast, giving it the same treatment while one hand slid down my stomach. His fingers traced the edge of my underwear, teasing along the elastic, and I squirmed in his lap—trying to get him where I needed him.
“Impatient,” he said against my skin, and I could hear the smirk in his voice.
“You’re a tease.”
“Maybe.” His fingers dipped below the waistband, and I held my breath. “But you like it.”
Before I could argue, his fingers found me—sliding through the wetness that had been building since he started his stupidMagic Mikeroutine. I gasped, hips jerking, as he traced my folds with maddening slowness.
“Fuck, Ava.” His voice was strained now, some of that cocky control slipping. “You’re soaked.”
I should have been embarrassed. Would have been, with anyone else. But Liam said it like a compliment, like proof of something good, and all I felt was want.
“Please,” I breathed.
He didn’t make me beg twice. Two fingers slid inside me, slow and firm, stretching me in a way that made my eyes roll back. I clutched at his shoulders, nails digging in, as he started to move—curling his fingers on each stroke tohit that spot that made stars burst at the edges of my vision.
“That’s it,” he murmured, watching my face like he was cataloging every reaction. “Ride my hand, Aves. Take what you need.”
I did.
My hips found a rhythm, grinding down on his fingers, chasing the pressure building low in my belly. His thumb found my clit, pressing in tight circles, and I cried out—the sound louder than I meant it to be in the small room.
“That’s my girl,” he said, and the words sent a jolt straight through me. “Don’t hold back. I want to hear you as you come all over my fingers.”
He added a third finger, the stretch burning in the best way, and picked up the pace. The wet sound of him fucking me with his hand was obscene, mixing with my increasingly desperate moans and the music still pulsing from the speaker. I couldn’t think anymore—could only feel. His fingers inside me, his thumb on my clit, his mouth on my neck sucking a mark I’d have to cover tomorrow.
“Come on,” he urged, his voice rough against my ear. “Come for me. I want to feel you fall apart.”
The orgasm hit me like a wave—sudden and overwhelming, crashing over me in pulses that made my body shake. I clenched around his fingers, crying out his name, and he worked me through it with steady strokes until I collapsed against his chest, trembling.
For a long moment, neither of us moved. I could feel his heart pounding against my cheek, could feel him still hard beneath me, but he didn’t push for more. He simply held me, his other hand stroking up and down my spine while I remembered how to breathe.
“Okay?” he asked eventually.
I laughed, still boneless and buzzing. “More than okay.”
When I finally lifted my head, he was watching me with that easy grin again—pleased with himself in a way that should have been annoying but mostly just made me want to kiss him.
