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Before she can answer, my lips touch her throat. She sucks in a gasp that turns into a deep sigh, her head falling back in silent offering. She smells fresh—floral, even—and I discover she tastes even better than she smells once I drag my tongue over her skin.

Remembering her writing, I prompt, “Come on. Talk to me. Tell me how it feels.”

“Good,” she breathes, arching her back and shivering when I nuzzle her throat. “Very good.”

We’ll have to work on the dirty talk. Yet another thing that’s much easier in fantasy than in real life. “Do you want more?” Now my lips skim her ear, making her shudder and whimper until her head bobs in silent agreement.

Pressing kiss after kiss against her skin, I move down, tracing her clavicle with lips and tongue until she squirms, almost panting. Then I travel lower, lower, painting the skin between her tits. “Oh my God,” she squeals, her body going tense.

“Breathe,” I remind her. “Relax into it.”

“I’m trying.” Not that it stops her back from arching almost violently when I drag my tongue around her tight nipple. “Whoa! That’s . . . that’s . . .”

She never does finish her thought, going silent except for her frantic breathing while I tease her. I’m teasing us both, with her reactions making me drip with anticipation in my shorts. When I take the tip of her breast between my lips, I watch her face, taking in the way her mouth falls open. Now that she’s without sight, every touch and caress will feel that much more intense.

I follow the progression of the scene she outlined, sucking her nipple, flicking it with my tongue before moving to the other one. “God, yes,” she whispers, her head rolling from side to side while I suck, teasing out one whimper after another until I move again, kissing my way down the flat plane of her stomach, spreading her legs wider to make room.

When I do, the scent of her arousal slams into me with all the force of an express train. Holy fuck, she is wet, hot, her juices dripping onto the bed and soaking into the sheet.

I sit back on my calves, staring down at her pink perfection. “What are you doing?” she whispers, trembling.

Cupping my aching dick through my shorts, I grunt, “Touching myself while looking at you.” Her body flushes, and I would swear the juices coating her lips glisten as more of her excitement flows free.

With no warning, I reach down to catch some of that excitement on the tip of my thumb. Her hips shoot up, her gasp piercing the air. “And now,” I murmur, “I’m going to lick you off my thumb before making you come with my mouth.”

She twists and writhes, her hands clenching and relaxing as she tugs uselessly at her restraints. I can’t take my eyes off her while I raise my hand to my mouth and lick her off my skin. The taste of her rolls through me like a wave, waking up every one of my senses, setting off an inferno of desire. Sweet, musky, something that makes me immediately crave more.

Lowering my head, I purse my lips and blow across her sensitive skin until she shivers. “Adrian . . .” she moans as her legs fall open wider and draw me in. More. I need more.

The first touch of my tongue to her swollen pink folds makes her hips jump again. This time I hold her down, one arm across her hips to pin her to the bed while I indulge in her sweetness. Fuck, yes. I never want to stop tasting her. I’m obsessed with her, unable to get enough. Every lap of my tongue demands another, another, while she twists and fights against my arm.

Finally, when it sounds like she’s dangling on the edge of sanity, I roll my tongue around her swollen clit.

She shrieks, going still for a heartbeat before going limp. “Oh my God . . . Oh my God . . .” she pants, her breathing ragged, chest heaving. A flush covers her skin, but it’s the nectar flowing freely from her quivering pussy that holds my attention. I can’t help but lap up every drop, greedy for her, while she squirms and gasps and tries to buck me off. Not a chance.

But I’m not done with her—besides, we haven’t finished her scene, right? So once I’ve licked her for as long as I can stand to wait, I climb down from the foot of the bed to strip off my T-shirt and shorts, almost shaking from need. To be inside her, to give her the pleasure she wrote for the character in her book.

Only this is very, very real, and it’s clear she’s nervous when my touch against her legs makes her flinch. “Please . . . be gentle,” she pleads in the softest whisper, even as her legs spread wider to invite me.

I’ll do my best. There’s no way of knowing how long I’ll be able to hold on to my control once I’m inside her. Especially when, as I take my swollen head to drag through her pretty pink folds, she moans helplessly. It’s a sound I could become addicted to.

The man in her book was rough, but I won’t be, at least not to start. I clench my jaw tight against the urge to plunge inside. Instead, I press against her entrance, noticing her sharpened breathing. “Relax,” I grunt before slowly pushing forward.

She stiffens, teeth almost disappearing when she bites her bottom lip. I don’t dare move—not only to avoid hurting her but to also avoid coming immediately, because fuck me, she is tighter than I imagined. Hot, wet silk grips me while I fight the impulse to bury myself all at once and wait for the rush of blinding pleasure to pass.

Once it does, I give her another inch, then another, while she fights against her restraints. “Stay just like that,” I whisper, running my hands from her hips over her waist, then playing with her tits. “You’re at my mercy, remember? Now you know how it feels.”

“So . . . big . . .” she whimpers pitifully, even as she lifts her hips like she’s inviting more of me. “So much!”

“And you’ll take it.” Looking down, I watch another inch disappear, then another, until I’m balls deep and savoring the sensation of what I’ve fantasized about for days. Her pussy is still quivering around me from her orgasm.

Slowly, I pull back before moving forward again, my hands roaming her body before taking her legs and propping them against my chest. I wish she could see herself now as I grind my hips into her—her mouth hanging open like a wanton sex goddess, her body moving in time with mine as instinct takes over for inexperience. She’s a living, breathing fantasy.

And I’m making her fantasy come true.

Slowly, her pleasure deepens. I know it when she tightens around me, when the wetness seeping from her turns into a flood. Her breath quickens, and soon she’s whining. “Oh God! What’s happening? What’s . . . ?”

“You’re the expert, aren’t you?” I can barely hold on as it is, fighting the urge to come with every stroke. My balls lift in preparation, but I grind my teeth, waiting for her. It’s desperation that makes me touch my thumb to her clit, strumming it in time with my strokes.