I let my mouth drop the last inch, pulled the soaked lace to the side, and let my tongue finally—finally—make contact. One slow drag. One heavy stroke of heat and pressure, tongue wide and unrelenting over the swollen bundle of nerves that had been aching for me since I walked in the room. Her moan was instant. Full-bodied. Ripped from her lungs like it had been caged. Her thighs clamped hard around my head before she caught herself and forced them open again. The discipline it took to hold still through that—I felt it crack like lightning down my spine.
And I didn’t give her reprieve.
I dragged my tongue through her again. And again. Slow. Deep. Cruel. I wasn’t trying to make her come.
I was trying to make her need to.
“Fuck,” I breathed. “You’re holding for me.”
She nodded, frantic.
“That’s power, Grace. That’s yours. Not mine. You’re doing this to yourself because you want me to feel what it means toownyou.”
She gasped—raw, cracked, shivering. Her chest heaved like she couldn’t breathe, but I knew better. She was breathing me. My voice. My mouth. My fucking restraint.
I sucked her clit between my lips, tongue relentless, pressure precise. She cried out, back arching again, muscles shaking like she was trying to outrun the orgasm building at the base of her spine. I didn’t let up. I licked and sucked and circled until her legs were trembling so hard I thought she might break.
But she didn’t.
She held.
And I tore myself away just before she could fall over the edge.
She sobbed—frustrated, shattered, needing.
I was almost to my limit—jaw aching, cock hard enough to bruise, breath ragged from holding myself back—and I wasjustabout to pull away again, to deny her one more time, when I tasted it.
Not slick.
Release.
I stilled.
It wasn’t just arousal soaking my tongue anymore. It was deeper. Hotter. The way her thighs clenched. The way her cunt pulsed under my tongue. The taste of it—just enough salt, just enough sweetness, like something that had already snapped.
My mouth hovered, breath searing against her clit as I lifted my eyes to hers.
“You came.”
Her whole body froze.
Not in fear.
In guilt.
In panic.
Her mouth parted. Her fingers twitched against the sheets. She didn’t deny it—shecouldn’t—and that honesty did something to me I wasn’t ready for.
“You came without permission.” My voice was quiet. Measured. Every syllable sharp as a blade.
“I—Rafe, I didn’t mean to—I tried—” Her voice cracked like glass.
I sat back on my heels, wiping my mouth slowly, fingers dragging down her trembling thigh. I watched her unravel with nothing but my eyes.
“You tried.” I nodded once. “But your body still gave in.”
She flinched. Chest heaving. Eyes shining.
