She hums in response, her tongue swirling around the head, and that's it. The orgasm tears out of me, violent and uncontrolled. I spill into her mouth, my hips stuttering, my vision whiting out. She swallows it all, her throat working, taking everything I give her until I'm empty.
I pull back, sliding out of her mouth. My legs are shaking. I sink down to the floor, sitting back on my heels, my head in my hands. For a second, the silence is perfect. The noise is gone. I'm just a body in a dark room. But then the reality starts to creep back in. The edges of the dark are sharpening. I can feel the weight of the day settling back onto my shoulders. I look at her. She's wiping her mouth, her chest heaving, her skirt hiked up around her hips. She looks wrecked. Zoë looks beautiful.
"Get on the bed," I say.
She raises an eyebrow. "You're not tired?"
"No."
Standing up, I haul her with me. I walk her backward toward the bed, stripping her clothes as we go. Her shirt, her bra, her skirt. Patience isn't an option. I need her skin. I need to be inside her in every way possible. I push her down onto the mattress. She bounces slightly, her hair fanning out against the pillow. I crawl over her, settling between her thighs.
"You're bossy when you're spiraling," she murmurs, but she spreads her legs for me, an invitation.
"Shut up."
I lower my head. No teasing. No warming her up. A broad stripe of my tongue drags up her cunt, tasting her. She's wet, dripping for me. I groan against her, the taste of her flooding my senses. I latch onto her clit, sucking hard, flattening my tongue to press against the bundle of nerves. Her back arches off the bed.
"Gio—fuck."
I eat her like I'm starving. My teeth, my lips, my tongue. My fingers fuck her, curling up to find that spot that makes her gasp. She's loud, cursing a blue streak, her hands fisted in my hair, pulling me closer. "Don't stop," she gasps, her thighs tightening around my head. "Don't you fucking stop."
I don't. I work her through the first orgasm, feeling her pulse around my fingers. She cries out, her body shaking, but I don't let up. I keep going, drawing it out, pushing her toward a second peak before she's even come down from the first.
"Too much," she whimpers, trying to squirm away.
"You can take it," I growl against her, lapping up the fresh wave of wetness. "You love it."
She does. She's grinding against my face, chasing the friction. I bring her to the edge again and again, until she's a writhing, sobbing mess. When she comes the third time, her whole body locks up, a silent scream tearing from her throat. I pull back, my face wet, my jaw aching. I look down at her. She's limp, her chest heaving, her eyes glazed. But she's looking at me. She's seeing me.
I need more. Need to be inside her. I reach for the nightstand, fumbling in the drawer for a condom. My hands are shaking. I rip the foil open with my teeth, rolling it on with practiced efficiency. The pause is agonizing. In that few seconds of silence, the thoughts try to creep back in. You're a liability. You're dragging them down.
Climbing back over her, I frame her face with my hands. My eyes lock on hers. "Zoë."
"I'm here," she says, her voice steady. "I'm right here."
Lining myself up, I push inside. The sensation is overwhelming. Tight, wet heat. It blanks out my mind completely. I sink deep, burying myself to the hilt. Stillness for a moment, just feeling her. She wraps her legs around my waist, her heels digging into my ass, pulling me impossibly deeper.
"Move," she demands.
I start to move. Nothing rhythmic. Nothing smooth. Just desperation. I fuck her hard, driving into her with a force that shakes the bed frame. The headboard slams against the wall, a rhythmic thudding that matches the pounding of my heart.
"Take it," I grit out, burying my face in her neck. "Take all of it."
"I am," she gasps, her nails raking down my back. "I'm taking it, Gio. Fuck me harder."
The dirty talk spills out of us, sharp and filthy. It's not about degrading her; it's about grounding us. Every word is a tether keeping me in this room.
"Your cunt feels so good," I groan.
"Your cock is huge," she breathes back. "Fill me up."
We're racing toward the edge, spiraling out of control. The pressure builds at the base of my spine. My hand reaches between us, finding her clit again. Tight, harsh circles. "Come with me," I order.
She shatters beneath me, her pussy clamping down on me like a vice. The sensation drags me over the edge with her. I come with a hoarse shout, my hips jerking erratically as I empty myself into the condom. It's violent. It's a collapse. I collapse on top of her, burying my face in her neck. My heart is hammering against her ribs. I can't breathe. I can't think. I'm just... gone.
For a long time, we just lie there. The only sound is our breathing, slowly syncing up. The room is dark, the only light coming from the streetlamp outside the window. The panic waits to come back. Then comes the guilt. The noise.
It doesn't come.
