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I sat back on my heels.

“Do that again,” I said.

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Your chest did. Do it again.”

“It isn’t a thing I⁠—”

I put my mouth back on the spot and the rumbling grew louder.

“There,” I said into his throat. “That. Finding spots like this is my life’s work now. I’m giving up tea.”

I nudged him backward, onto the bed, and he settled, fisting the blanket. I worked my way down his body with my mouth, and his hands whitened across the knuckles.

“You can touch me,” I said.

“No. Not yet,” he rasped, and we’d barely started. “Not until you know what I’ve got.”

“I’m eager to see what you’ve got. It’s time, don’t you think?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?” I frowned up at him from where I’d been kissing circles around his belly button. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No.”

“The grannies have a page in their book about you.”

“What?” he barked.

“I’ve only heard about it. I haven’t seen it.”

Why settle for their drawings with the original right in front of me?

I loosened the fastening on his pants and splayed them wide. He wore a loincloth underneath. I’d seen one like it when he went to bed at night. My ogre was modest. Even licking me to the point of screaming last night, he still wore something to bed.

“Hips up,” I said.

He lifted them, his gaze intent on my face. Did he worry I’d see something I didn’t like? I was worried I’d like it so much I’d have to beg him to give it to me five times a day. He was busy with his fields and animals. I’d have to hunt him down in the barn or a meadow to get my due.

I slid his pants down and tossed them aside.

“This too,” I said, waving to the loincloth.

“You want that off as well?”

I lifted my eyebrows. “If you don’t want me to touch you, just say so. Please.”

“I’d kill for you to touch me,” he said in a husky voice.

“Then off.”

He untied the cord and unwrapped himself like a special package.

His cock sprang free, standing up stiff. Thick and long.

It was going to taste delicious.