Page 130 of American Beauty

“Open up that pretty little mouth for me. Show me how much you want to taste my cock.”

I flatten my tongue and lick a slow, lazy path from base to tip, taking my time, my gaze locked on his face.

His jaw clenches, and he fists the sheet.

“Babe, you’re fucking killing me.”

I hum, letting the vibration tease against him. Because I know he loves it.

My hand grips the base of his cock, stroking slow and steady while my touch traces the crown of its head. When I take him into my mouth—inch by inch, warm and wet and deliberate—it’s not a physical act. It’s connection. Pure and consuming.

It’s about us. The trust. The want. The need to give this to him—this pleasure, this devotion—because there’s no one else I’ve ever wanted like this.

He groans, deep and guttural, hips bucking before he steadies himself with a rough exhale.

“Fuck, Magnolia… you feel so good. So damn perfect.”

His hand tangles in my hair. I hollow my cheeks and take him deeper, letting my tongue swirl and drag as I move, slow and steady. His thighs tense. His breath stutters.

“Don’t stop… please don’t stop.” And I don’t. Because I want this—every sound, every twitch of his body, every broken word that falls from his lips like prayer.

Because I want him undone by me.

And he is.

His fingers twist in my hair, and his hips twitch, breath going ragged as I work him slow, steady, deep. Every flick of my tongue, every soft moan that spills from his mouth, roots itself inside me.

His fingers tighten in my hair, and his voice breaks into a groan. “God, I love your mouth. But I want to finish inside you. You know that’s where I want to be.”

I kiss his stomach, slow and deliberate. He’s shaking by the time I crawl up his body and straddle his hips. My fingers wrap around him, guiding him inside me inch by inch.

A shared breath––and soft gasp––when I sink down all the way, careful not to put any pressure on his leg.

His hands grip my thighs, his eyes locked on mine. “Fuck.”

“You okay, big guy?”

His hands move up to my hips. “Never been better.”

I rock against him, slow and deep, and he lets out a strangled sound, head falling back into the pillows. “Yeah, ride me just like that. I want to feel all of you.”

His hand slides between us, finding my clit with the ease that comes from knowing a body by heart.

“Does that feel good?”

“Mm-hmm.”

I ride him, rolling my hips. His fingers work in tandem with my rhythm until I’m spiraling, clenching around him, crying out as I fall apart.

He follows with a low, broken groan, his body arching, burying himself deeper as he lets go. His arms wrap around me, pulling me against him as we both come.

Neither of us says it—but we’re both thinking it. How are we going to make this work?

I rest my head against his shoulder, letting the steady thump of his heart anchor me.

His lips brush my temple. “Don’t move yet. I want to stay inside you like this for a while.”

His arms wrap tighter around me. “I’ve been thinking about what comes next for us.”

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