“Hands on the headboard, darlin’.” He says, low and rough. “I want to hear it rattle.”
I’m already trembling when his hands slide up the backs of my thighs, firm and possessive, guiding me exactly where he wants me—over his mouth, like this was always the destination.
I do as he says, gripping the headboard, legs straddling either side of his head. My knees are shaky. My breath’s all over the place. I hover just above his mouth, still trying not to press all the way down.
And he noticesthattoo.
He raises his brows, that wicked smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You tryin’ to spare me, sweetheart?”
I shrug breathlessly. “I’m just… what if I suffocate you?”
His eyes flash like lightning, and that grin turnsferal.
“I know the risks,” he says, voice like gravel, “and I’m willin’ to die on this hill… if it means my tongue is drenched inyou.”
God.
That does it.
Imeltinto him.
He grips my thighs and pulls me down—all the way down—so my full weight settles against his mouth. He groans like he’s been starving for this, forme, and the second his tongue meets me, I forget how to think.
There’s no room for doubt. No room for modesty or self-consciousness.
Only this.
Only him.
His eyes flick open, locking on mine from beneath the cradle of my hips.
And even with his mouth busy, I swear I hear the growl in his chest.
He pulls back just long enough to murmur against my skin, voice husky, low, and smug as hell, “Don’t go gettin’ shy on me now.”
I bite my lip, but it’s no use.
“You holdin’ back?” he says, dragging his tongue slow, torturous, deliberate through my wet core—like punishment and reward all at once.
I moan—quiet, barely there.
He doesn’t stop. Just slides one palm up my back, the other anchoring my hips as he doubles down with filthy intent.
“Let me hear you loud, baby,” he rasps between strokes. “I want the whole damn ranch to know you’re mine.”
And when the next moan tears loose—loud, wrecked, helpless—I feel him smile against me. Like a man who’s not just winning.
Like a man claiming what’s his.
And all I feel is lust, pleasure… and love.
The way this man loves me…it defies logic. He makes me feel worshipped. Safe. Desired. Like I’m not just beautiful—I’mhis.Always first. Always seen. Always enough.
I ride his mouth, clutching the headboard like a lifeline, thighs trembling, heart slamming. He doesn’t let up. He doesn’t stop.
And when I come, I fall.
Hard.
