Her fingers flexed on my thighs.
“I love the attention—I won’t lie. I love the cameras and the magazine covers and the lights. But if all of it went away tomorrow, I’d still be okay. Because you love me in a way I’ve never been loved before. I feel it in your bones, Lex. Like you were made for me.”
I blinked hard, my throat tight.
“I’m so in love with you.” My words felt inadequate after her extended soliloquy.
Then her mouth was on me again, devoted and unrelenting. I cried out, hips flexing off the mattress. Eva held me down with both hands, moaning into me like I was the dessert we never had.
Her tongue moved in slow, practiced circles. She didn’t tease; she gave. Over and over. Building me up and keeping me there, right on the edge, until I was panting her name like it was the only word I could remember.
Her hand slid up to grip mine, fingers interlaced, grounding me while she kept her mouth exactly where I needed it. She knew how to read me—when my breath caught, when my thighs trembled, when my back arched.
A low, ragged moan slipped from my throat. Then a breathy gasp. Then a name—Eva—broke free before I could stop it.
Her lips curved into a smile against my skin, and she hummed, the vibration setting my nerves on fire. “That’s it, baby. Let me hear you.”
I arched into her mouth, letting the sound rise—loud, messy, and urgent. “Fuck, Eva, don’t stop. Please, I need you.”
Her tongue flicked faster, teasing, swirling, coaxing, and I shuddered, fingers digging into the tops of her shoulders.
“God, yes. Right there, right there. You’re killing me.”
She groaned around me, her voice thick. “You sound incredible.”
I couldn’t help it. I cried out, louder now. “I’m so close, Eva. Please, don’t stop.”
Her mouth moved with a deliberate, confident rhythm, matching every desperate plea, every broken word. Her hands gripped my thighs, steadying me as I lost myself in the wave of sensations.
“Come for me,” she whispered fiercely, her voice nearly breathless.
“Eva—” My voice cracked. “I’m?—”
She pressed her tongue harder against my clit. Just enough.
I broke. Hard. I shuddered under her, my pulse thudding in my ears. She didn’t stop right away, didn’t let go of my hand. She only slowed everything down until I could breathe again.
Eva crawled back up my body and kissed me, lazy and deep. My hands were shaking when I touched her. I could taste myself on her lips.
She pulled away slightly, eyes dark with a mix of mischief and affection. “I’m ready for my dessert now,” she said.
I laughed, still catching my breath, my heart still racing. “You are so damn greedy,” I teased.
Eva slid off the bed and stood, her body still as tempting as the moments before. “I’m talking about the actual dessert from dinner, babe,” she said, her voice filled with playful innocence. “Gotta refuel before Round Two.”
We’d fallen asleep,tangled and sticky, the kind of bone-deep exhaustion that follows hard conversations and multipleorgasms. When I woke up, the bed beside me was empty, but the sound of the shower in the en suite told me she hadn’t gone far.
The bathroom door was cracked open. Steam drifted into the bedroom like a beckoning finger.
I nudged the door wider and lingered in the threshold.
The shower in Eva’s condo was massive—clearly built for luxury, with a rainfall showerhead mounted high enough to accommodate her above-average height. Deep jade-green tiles lined the back wall and sides. A glass door framed the front, left slightly ajar, letting heat and steam spill into the room.
She stood with her back to me, arms braced against the tile under the water’s steady stream. Her braids, soaked and heavy, clung to her back in long, dark lines. Droplets traced the contours of her shoulders, down the smooth plane of her spine, collecting at the small of her back before sliding over the curve of her hips and backside. Every muscle was outlined in water, a living sculpture of strength and softness.
“You planning on joining me?” Her voice echoed through the tile-lined space.
“Maybe,” I said, but my feet were already moving.
