Without breaking contact with my skin, I skim my hand to my right side. His breaths are louder now as I take a handful of my breast.

“Put two fingers in your mouth,” he says next.

His strokes pick up pace as I lift my free hand to my lips. I watch him wait for me, a desperate urgency in his eyes. I graze each finger with my tongue as if thick sap falls from them. His gaze is set keenly upon my flesh, and his lips tremble. Then, my fingers are in my mouth, and my tongue swirls over them as I watch him beg for more.

He gives his orders through labored breaths. “Move the other hand lower.”

I drop my hand from my breast. “Slowly,” he intercedes. “I’m in no rush to skip over any part of you.”

I curl my fingers and brush my skin with my fingertips. Before he tells me to, I lie down on the floor and look up at him.

He doesn’t stop me. His eyes glisten in frantic fascination when my back is against the stone. A ferocious flare spirals through me, and I spread my legs wider for his enjoyment. A groan pours out of him like he’s tasted food for the first time in years. His leg muscles tighten, and his torso constricts to keep him standing upright.

I stop just before I reach my hips and dance my fingers around my navel.

“What would you do to me next?”

His eyes are entranced beneath lowered hoods, his strokes quicker, longer. He finally speaks through gritted teeth.

“I want you to bring my hand lower until I can feel the warmth that comes from you.”

I follow his directions and gasp as my fingers, his fingers, touch me there.

“Now,” his tone is more animalistic than human. “I don’t want you to feel your hand anymore. I don’t want you to feel mine either. Instead, you’ll feel my tongue.” He moans lightly as he adds, “I want you to drag it over every single inch of you. When you find the place that feels best, let me know so that I can stay there.”

I massage myself in circular movements. I keep my eyes fastened to his as he squints, and his face tightens in pleasure. I use the tip of my middle finger and rub against the hood, and immediately my body floods with an intense bliss. My loud moans meet his groans, and the sounds of pleasure fill the cellar.

“Right there,” I say breathlessly. “Keep it right there.”

I move my fingers fast and faster, and when I close my eyes, I can feel it; I can feel his tongue slide over me in rapid licks.

“Do you like it, Little Sparrow?”

“Yes.” Our voices are equally strained.

“Tell me you can feel me.”

I moan again, then release a high-pitched squeal that’s never come from me before.