"Jax," I decide, meeting those steady gray eyes. "You first."
He nods, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he shifts his position, moving down the bed until he's kneeling between my legs. His hands are warm on my thighs as he gently spreads them wider, making space for himself.
"You're already wet," he observes, his voice a low rumble that I can feel in my bones. "So responsive."
I blush at the observation, though it's hardly surprising given the circumstances. Of course I'm wet.
Jax doesn't make me wait. He leans down, his breath warm against my most intimate place for just a moment before his mouth makes contact. The first swipe of his tongue has me gasping, hips lifting involuntarily toward the source of pleasure.
His technique, like everything else about him, is precise and thorough. He explores me methodically, learning what makes me moan, what makes my thighs tense, what makes my back arch off the bed. When he finds my clit, circling it with just the right pressure, I cry out, one hand flying down to tangle in his hair.
He groans against me, the vibration adding another layer to the pleasure. His hands grip my thighs, holding me open as he devours me with controlled hunger. It's good, so good, and I can feel the orgasm building already.
But not yet. I want to experience all of them before I let myself fall over that edge.
"Enough," I gasp, gently tugging at his hair. "I want... I want to try the others too."
Jax pulls back immediately, his mouth glistening with evidence of my arousal. He looks thoroughly pleased withhimself as he wipes his lips with the back of his hand. "Who's next?" he asks, his voice rough with desire.
I turn my head to where Zayn lounges beside me, his dark eyes watching the proceedings with undisguised interest. "Your turn," I tell him, both challenge and invitation in my voice.
He grins, all confident swagger as he moves to take Jax's place between my thighs. Unlike Jax's methodical approach, Zayn dives in without preamble, his mouth hot and demanding against me. Where Jax was thorough, Zayn is intense, focusing immediately on the spots that make me squirm.
"Oh god," I gasp, my hands fisting in the sheets as his tongue flicks rapidly over my clit, building the pleasure higher, faster. His technique is completely different, less exploratory, more direct, but equally effective.
His hands grip my hips, pulling me more firmly against his mouth as he devours me with single-minded focus. It's almost too much, too intense, the pleasure sharp-edged and overwhelming. Just as I think I might come, might shatter under his relentless attention, he pulls back slightly, his dark eyes meeting mine over the plane of my stomach.
"Not yet, gorgeous," he says, reading my building orgasm in the coil of my body. "Gotta let the others have a turn first."
I whimper at the denial, but I understand the logic. The reminder of the rule I set out for myself, even if I'm wondering what the hell I was thinking.
Oh, yeah. I want to experience all of them, to learn the differences in their techniques, their touches, their tastes. Sounds reasonable enough.
Dmitri is next, settling his large frame between my legs. His approach is different still. It's slow, deliberate, almost reverent. His tongue traces my folds with careful attention, as if memorizing every curve and dip. When he finally focuses on myclit, it's with a gentle pressure that's somehow more intense for its restraint.
I moan, my hips rocking against his mouth as he builds me up again with patient skill. His large hands grip my thighs, thumbs pressing into the sensitive inner skin in a way that makes me shiver. He reads my body like a book, backing off whenever I get too close to the edge, keeping me balanced on the knife's edge of orgasm without letting me fall.
By the time he pulls away, I'm trembling, my skin flushed and damp with sweat. Three down, two to go, and I'm already more aroused than I can ever remember being.
I don't know if I can do this. If I can hold back. But that's one failure I can't say I'd feel too bad about.
Aidan approaches next, taking his place between my trembling thighs. Where the others were confident, he seems almost reverent as he leans down to taste me. His first touch is tentative, exploratory, but he gains confidence quickly as he learns my responses.
What he lacks in experience, he makes up for in enthusiasm and attention to detail. He watches my face as he experiments, noting what makes me respond with the most intensity. He's a quick learner, adapting his technique based on my reactions until he finds a rhythm that has me clutching at the sheets, teetering on the brink of release.
"Wait," I pant, reaching down to tug gently at his hair. "Not yet. One more."
Aidan pulls back reluctantly, his lips and chin glistening with my arousal. He looks dazed, as if the taste of me is a drug he can't get enough of. The thought sends another pulse of heat through me, adding to the almost unbearable pleasure coiled in my core, demanding release.
Finally, it's Darren's turn. He settles between my legs with familiar ease, his blue eyes meeting mine with a heat that makesmy breath catch. He knows my body already, knows what I like, what makes me come undone.
"Ready for me to bring you home, baby?" he asks, his breath hot against my inner thigh.
Those words almost do it without him even having to touch me.
"Please," I whisper, beyond pride, beyond restraint.
He smiles, a flash of white teeth before he lowers his head and takes me into his mouth. His technique is confident, skilled, honed by our previous encounters. He knows exactly how much pressure to apply, exactly where to focus his attention, exactly when to alternate between broad strokes of his tongue and more targeted attention.
