“Everything.”
I slide my tongue along the slit of her pussy.
She arches off the counter and her hand fists in my hair and she makes a sound I’ve never heard her make before.
I work her slow. Flat of my tongue first, finding the rhythm her body wants. Her hand in my hair tightens. Her thighs come around my shoulders and I put one hand flat on her stomach to hold her down and the other slides up the inside of her thigh and stays there.
“Jax — fuck — Jax —”
I close my mouth slurping and sucking her clit.
“Oh — oh — oh —”
I love how she sounds.
I love how she comes apart for me.
I love that she’s on my counter with the Cup three feet away and her thighs are around my shoulders and there’s no part of her that is performing anything right now.
She’s here. Fully here.
I slip a finger inside her. She’s so wet. So ready. I curl my finger and find the spot that makes her whole body vibrate —her thighs tighten around me, and I work her. Tongue and finger together. Building. Not letting her come yet, holding her at the edge.
“Jax — please —”
“Yeah.”
“Please.”
“Tell me what you want, baby.”
“Make me come on your mouth.”
“Yeah.”
I work her faster, her body lifting off the counter, her sounds getting louder and shorter and more broken — full sentences to fragments to my name to just sound. Just Jax and yeah and fuck and then nothing,just—
I press my tongue flat against her and add a second finger and curl them up.
That does it.
She comes with my mouth sucking her cunt— thighs locked around my shoulders, whole body shaking — open, unmanaged and completely hers, no audience, no professional context. Just her in my kitchen coming for me.
I work her through it. Don’t pull off. Stay with her every second.
She pushes my forehead away when she’s too sensitive.
I kiss her thigh. Sit back on my heels. Look up.
She’s looking down at me.
Hair wild. Chest flushed. Eyes wet.
“Come here,” she says quietly.
I stand up.
Her hands come up to my jaw. Both of them. Cupping my face.
