His taste, oh. I want to feel so full of him that every other thought dissolves under the heat of it. I want his mouth everywhere, sucking at me like he does. I love how he loves my lips, how—after only one night together—his hands already know my skin.

He walks me back to the bed, lips and tongue and teeth all over my cheeks and mouth and jaw. I fall backward when my knees hit the bed.

He pulls at the hem of my dress and unsheathes me in a single determined tug, then reaches behind me, ridding me of my bra with a tiny slip of his fingers. He makes me feel like I’m something to reveal, something in which to revel. I’m the reward at the end of his magic trick, exposed beneath the velvet cape. His eyes rake across my skin and I can see his own impatience: shirt flung across the room, fingers tugging at his belt, tongue flicking at the air, searching for the taste of me.

Ansel gives up on undressing, instead kneeling on the floor between my thighs, spreading me, kissing me over the fabric of my underwear. He nibbles and tugs, sucking and licking impatiently before he slides my last remaining article of clothing down my legs.

I gasp when he leans forward, covering my most sensitive skin in a long, slow lick. His breath feels like tiny bursts of fire where he kisses my clit, my pubic bone, my hip. I push up, leaning back on my hands to watch him.

"Tell me what you need," he says, his voice raspy against my hip.

With this, I remember weakly that he made me come with his hands and body last night, but not his mouth. I can sense the need to conquer this, and wonder how long he tried before I grew impatient, pulling him up and into me.

The truth is I'm not sure what I need. Oral sex has always been a stop on the way somewhere else. A way to get me wet, to make the circuit of my body activate. Never something done until I shook and sweated and swore.

"S-suck," I say, guessing.

He opens his mouth, sucking perfectly for a breath of time and then too much. "Not so hard.” I close my eyes, finding the bravery to tell him, “Like you suck on my lip."

It's exactly the direction he needed and I fall back against the mattress without thinking, my legs spreading wider and with this he grows wild. Palms firmly planted on my inner thighs to keep my legs open, sounds pressed into me, vibrating throughme.

One of his hands leaves me and I can feel him moving, can sense the shifting of his arm. Propping myself on an elbow I look down and realize he's touching himself, eyes on me, fevered.

"Let me," I tell him. "I want to taste you, too."