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“Holy fuck, Sutton,” he says almost reverently.

Then he leans in and gives my breast a long, slow lick before teasing the nipple with the tip of his tongue, then sucking gently, then hard.

My pussy clenches, and I grab the back of his head, my fingers curling into his hair. “God, yes.”

He rocks back on his heels. “Dreams do come true,” he says.

“You imagined this?”

“So many times,” he tells me. “Tried not to. Then you started stalking me and I couldn’t get you out of my mind.”

“Wait, you were thinking about me before all of…this…started?”

I had no idea. He’s never even flirted with me. And I know why.

But I shut that down immediately. I am not going to think about that right now.

“Yes. I’ve had a thing for you for a long time,” he says. He blows out a breath and shakes his head. “And here you are. I’m so fucking lucky.”

Then he reaches for my panties.

I gladly lift my hips off the bed as he hooks his thumbs in the top of the white silk and starts to tug.

He slides them down my legs, then tosses them over his shoulder, his gaze intent on what he uncovered.

“Fuck,” he says appreciatively.

“Need you,” I tell him.

“Show me.”

I am past the point of awkwardness now. He knows I am inexperienced. He knows that I often say and do the wrong thing. But he’s still here. He still wants this. Wants me. That’s empowering in a way that even him thinking I’m the sexiest woman in the world wouldn’t be.

I part my legs, and he sucks in a quick breath. Then I slide my hands down between my legs and show him exactly where I need him. I circle my clit with gentle pressure.

“Right here,” I tell him.

“And what do you want right there?” he asks.

“Touch me.”

He reaches out his hand, his long, thick middle finger sliding through my wetness, making me suck in my breath. I move my hand, and he gathers that slickness, taking it up to my clit and circling. He watches his finger for a moment, then lifts his gaze to my face. “Good?”

I nod. “Harder.”

He presses harder, circling faster. “Play with your nipples,” he tells me.

Why would I argue about that? I cup a breast, teasing the nipple while he continues to circle, the pressure and friction delicious.

Then he moves his finger lower to my opening.

“Lawson,” I start, trying to tell him that I always come with pressure on my clit.

But he slides that finger into me, deep, stretching, giving me friction there, and I forget what I was about to say.

“Fuck, you’re perfect. So tight and wet and hot. All for me.”

I nod. I don’t know what else to do. I’ll do anything that seems encouraging because I really need him to keep going. Just to be sure, I say, “Don’t stop.”