Perfect.
I lick her then, tasting her. She gasps and holds herself above me, her body quivering as I feast on her. The taste of her fills my senses, sweet and intoxicating.
My hands grasp her hips, holding her in place as I explore her further with my tongue. She grinds down against my mouth, chasing her release, but I pull back just enough to deny her.
“No,” she gasps, her fingers digging into my shoulders.
“Yes,” I correct her. “I’ll have you when I decide it’s time.”
She lets out a frustrated moan and wriggles against me in an attempt to gain the friction she craves. I shift away from her a little and continuing the slow torture I started at my pace, not hers.
My hands move up to cup her breasts again, thumbs brushing over her nipples as I pull her down and capture her lips with mine, giving her a taste of herself on my tongue.
“You will wait,” I say against her mouth.
I let her sink back down onto my mouth again. Then, I draw my tongue over her, tasting her again. The strangled sound she makes goes straight to my cock, throbbing with a desire that is almost painful in its intensity. Still, I make no move to relieve it. Instead, I focus on tracing patterns over sensitive flesh with lips and tongue.
At last, when she seems on the verge of coming apart under my touch, when she’s panting and whimpering and pleading, I let her sink onto me. She freezes at first, just holding herself above me, as if she can’t believe that I’m finally letting her find her release.
And then, as if liberated from a spell, she starts to move. Her hips rock slowly against my mouth, a rhythm that has my breath hitching and my body responding in kind. I see the moment she loses herself to the pleasure, her head thrown back and eyes closed tightly, her mouth open in a silent cry.
She is exquisite like this—unguarded, sensual, lost in the throes of what I’ve drawn out of her.
My hands tighten on her hips, guiding her in this dance of passion and release. Her breaths grow shallow, her body convulsing in anticipation. With one final gasp, she arches back as the climax takes her and leaves her shuddering and panting above me.
The sight of her spent and vulnerable atop me is more satisfying than any physical pleasure I could seek.
As her tremors subside, I shift us again, until her body lies beneath mine.
“You’re exquisite,” I say as I trace my fingers down her side and then along the inside of her thigh, taking the time to appreciate every inch of her. A soft sigh escapes her lips as I continue my exploration until I reach the apex of her thighs.
With a groan of anticipation, I lower myself onto her. She’s tight, so incredibly tight, and it takes every ounce of my self-control not to lose myself right then and there.
All I can see is her—the way she bites her lower lip in pleasure, the way her fingernails dig into my back, urging me to move faster.
Her thighs wrap around my hips, pulling me deeper into her warmth. It’s ecstasy and agony rolled into one.
I want more, need more. And so does she.
I alter the rhythm, increasing my pace little by little. Her fingers dig further into my back, leaving marks that will surely bloom into bruises by dawn. I bare the pain gladly.
“Surrender to me, Annora,” I say against her ear.
Her response is a desperate moan as her body clenches around me in response.
I take one of her nipples between my fingers, pinching it lightly as I quicken my thrusts. She cries out again as she rides the edge of pleasure and pain. With another swift movement, I slip my other hand under her, cupping her bottom to drive deeper.
Her nails scrape down my back as I allow myself to let go, to take her harder, faster. Her breaths grow ragged as she matches my pace, her soft cries echoing in the room. It’s raw and unabashed, as if everything that came before was mere foreplay to this. The taste of her on my lips, the feel of her under my hands—it’s too much, and yet it’s never enough.
“More...” she says, the word more of a breathy sigh than a coherent plea.
I comply, my thrusts growing more forceful, my fingers digging deeper into her flesh even as hers does the same to mine.
I move one hand to her hair, tangling my hand in the curls as I lower my mouth to take one of her nipples between my teeth, biting gently. She moans and brings her back off the bed to meet my mouth.
My fingers tighten in her hair, tugging her head back as I take her harder—each thrust more forceful than the last. Her whimpers only fuel my hunger as I bring her closer and closer to the precipice.
Now that we’re on the cusp, I find it hard to hold back, the thin veneer of control I’ve clung to threatening to shatter into a million pieces. But I know that if I fall, she falls with me.
