That familiar feeling begins to coil tight in my belly.
“I—I can’t,” I cry out, feeling like I can barely breathe as the orgasm begins to build.
“Ride it out.” He flicks his tongue. Once. Twice. Then I’m tumbling over the edge, and I shatter.
A strangled cry breaks out of me, full-bodied and uncontrolled, while my thighs clamp around his head as my orgasm rips through me like a lightning strike.
His tongue laps gently, coaxing every last wave of sensation from me until I’m boneless.
I sink into the mattress, limbs limp, chest heaving as he trails hot kisses along the inside of my thigh. I feel the brief but sharp bite of teeth before it’s gone, and he’s back to kissing a path up my body.
My hands fumble forward blindly, needing to anchor myself to him, but instead of skin, my fingers find fabric, and I freeze.
He’s still dressed.
“Off.” The word escapes before I realize I’m saying it.
I grab his shirt and tug.
It’s in my way.
I hear the scrape of movement and the soft metallic slide of a belt being unbuckled. Then come the sounds of buttons slipping free and fabric rustling as he sheds the last layers separating us.
I’m so locked into every sound that I almost miss the touch of his fingertips gliding gently across my stomach.
They pause at a thin, sensitive line just above my hip.
My scar.
He doesn’t ask.
I don’t explain.
He just touches it and moves on.
“Are you still with me?”
I nod quickly. “Yes.”
“Still sure?”
“God, yes.”
There’s a pause.
A breath.
Then the unmistakable crinkle of foil.
A condom.
Good, safety first, and all that.
Heat floods through me so fast I can’t even brace for it.
His bare skin collides with mine, and every inch of me lights up.
He’s bigger than I expected.