Page 112 of Ricardo

He presses another gentle kiss to my clit. Not nearly enough pressure.

"Dreaming of how sweet you would be."

A longer lick this one. Not quite there.

"Dreaming of how you would look spread out for me like this."

A hard, pointed swirl of the tongue right against my clit. My entire body arches off the blanket. I am so close.

"Dreaming of how you would sound when you come on my tongue."

Then he goes back to the slow, maddening licks, as if the past thirty seconds never happened.

A sob of frustration escapes my lips.

"Ricardo... please," I beg. "Please don't stop."

"And you will," he continues as if I didn't speak at all, almost conversationally. "Don't worry, cara mia, you will. But..."

He curls his fingers inside me, and I have no idea what the hell he just did, but I tense and gasp as the intense pleasure overtakes me. Then he stops, and I collapse back to the rug.

"I've waited too long to have you here like this. I'm not going to be rushed."

Then he does it again. A curl of his fingers. I tense.

Then he stops, and I collapse.

He's playing me like a damn fiddle. He knows every damn button to push, even more than I do, and he's enjoying pushing every single one of them.

He's enjoying watching me come undone for him.

"Ricardo," I plead, my hips grinding shamelessly against his face. "Please."

He does it again for a third time, curls his fingers inside me. When he releases them, I start to figure it out.

He's not just playing with me or teasing me for the hell of it, because he can.

He's trying to draw it out. But more than that, he's teaching me something.

He's showing me that pleasure doesn't have to be a means to an end. It can be an end in itself. That this journey, as frustrating as it is, can be just as pleasurable as the destination.

This isn't about rushing to the finish line and then rolling over to go to sleep.

He's showing me that I can trust him with this.

With me.

And the strangest thing happens. The frustration starts to recede, replaced by something else.

A new kind of desire.

Not the desperate, frantic need I've been feeling, but a deeper, more profound wanting. A wanting to be fully present in this moment, to experience every single sensation, no matter how maddening.

I stop begging. I stop trying to control the rhythm, to force my body toward that elusive peak.

I just... let go and start to enjoy the ride.

I let him guide me. I let him lead. I let him show me the way.