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“Both of them.”

Her eyes stay on mine as she slowly pulls her hand from my hair and places it beside her thigh, then does the same with the other.

“And no touching.”

Her lips part slightly, and I swear I can feel half a moan rising from deep in her chest.

“Good.”

I let my hands drift down to her waistband, taking my time with the button and zipper, while Flora keeps both palms planted exactly where I told her to. The restraint is almost more distracting than if she were touching me, especially when her hips shift restlessly beneath my hands.

I work her pants down, Flora lifting herself from the bench just enough to help me. A moment later, they’re abandoned on the floor beside us.

“Fuck,” I say the moment I notice how the fabric of her panties is completely soaked through. “You are perfect.”

A broken little sound catches in Flora’s throat, somewhere between a whimper and a moan, and her fingers curl around the edge of her seat.

“Por favor, Merry.”

There’s absolutely no composure left in it this time. Just want.

I trace the tip of my tongue right over her clit, and Flora shivers. She mutters something that could be a curse word or my name or who even cares, and the sound shoots straight through my core.

I lift my body and tug her sweater up, and she lets me—arms raised, obliging. And then it’s tossed behind me in my small entryway and Flora is all but naked in my home, and all I want to do is devour her.

“Jesus fuck, you’re so hot.”

Flora laughs, but the sound is cut short the moment I drag the back of my hand over her hard nipples. And then her mouth is on me, our tongues meeting in a messy, clumsy kiss that feels more desperate than coordinated.

She catches my lower lip between hers, and I lose track of whatever I was about to do, my hands finding her waist as I pull her closer.

My fingers finally resume their slow path down her body, following the curve of her waist until her breath catches again. She arches into me, and I know it’s not deliberate because the motion is followed by a whimper that seems to surprise her as much as it does me.

I hook my finger at the edge of the soft fabric of her panties and ease it aside, breath warm over her soaking pussy. The first slow stroke of my tongue against her clit pulls a sharp gasp from Flora, her entire body going taut beneath my hands. Flora’s hand finds my hair, fingers tangling, holding my head exactly where it is.

“Hands on the bench, baby,” I say, blowing air over where she’s so hot.

She shivers immediately, and her hand goes back to where it was. Flora’s eyes are closed shut, and her breathing is fast and labored, and I know she’s close.

I could drag it out. I should drag it out. But unfortunately for me and fortunately for her, I’ve never been known for my patience.

“Open your eyes,” I murmur against her, and feel her clit pulse on my tongue. “I want you to watch me.”

Flora’s eyes open, pupils blown wide and eyes dark as she steadily holds my gaze. And fuck, if that isn’t the hottest thing that’s happened to me in a long time.

Something about the way she looks at me makes everything else fall away for a minute. Flora is so often the one watching, the one quietly looking at things, while I fill every available inch of silence, but right now she’s letting me see her without trying to rearrange the expression on her face into something more controlled. There’s trust in that, I realize, in letting someone witness exactly how much they affect you, and the thought sends a different kind of warmth through me.

I want to keep her looking at me. I want to remember this version of her, undone and open and trusting me enough not to hide it.

I go back to her pussy, licking greedily at her entrance, collecting the arousal that’s all for me before sucking on her clit. She hisses out another unintelligible word, and I press my legs together instinctively, the sound of her pleasure sending a rush of heat through me.

I lift one of Flora’s legs and hook it over my shoulder, then pull her closer until she’s perched at the very edge of the bench, pressing my face between her thighs, losing myself in her.

“Yes,” Flora says with a pant. I can feel her eyes on me, the heat of her gaze right where my tongue is working her up. “Just like that.”

Flora rolls her hips against my mouth, and I know she’s close—so, so close—because her legs start to shake and she’s rocking her whole body against me. Her hands are gripping the edge of my little entryway bench so hard that they’re white, and it can’t possibly be comfortable, her ass halfway off her seat.

“Let me see your tits,” I say, and I feel almost feral.