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His hand slides between my thighs, his fingers finding me wet and aching.

"Fuck, Megan," he groans. "You're soaked."

"Please," I breathe.

"Please what?"

"Touch me."

"I am touching you."

"Brock—"

"Say it," he commands, his fingers circling my clit. "Tell me what you want."

"I want your mouth," I gasp. "I want your tongue on my pussy."

"Good girl."

He moves down my body, his hands spreading my thighs wide.

And then his mouth is on me, his tongue licking and sucking, his fingers pushing inside me.

I cry out, my hands fisting in the sheets.

"That's it," he murmurs against me. "Come for me, Megan. Let me taste you."

It doesn't take long.

I come hard, my body shaking, his name on my lips.

Brock doesn't stop. He keeps licking and sucking, drawing out my orgasm until I'm trembling and oversensitive.

Then he moves back up my body, his mouth finding mine.

I can taste myself on his tongue, and it's filthy and perfect.

"I need to be inside you," he says, his voice strained. "Tell me you want that."

"I want that," I breathe. "I want you inside me."

He groans, reaching for the nightstand and pulling out a condom.

I watch as he strips off his clothes, revealing the powerful body I've touched but never fully seen.

He's beautiful. All hard muscle and controlled strength.

He rolls on the condom and positions himself between my thighs.

"Look at me," he says.

I meet his eyes.

And then he pushes inside me, slow and deep.

We both groan.

"Fuck," he breathes. "You feel so good."