I sucked and licked and an urgency grew as her body responded. I switched sides, giving the same attention, loving how she arched and writhed, her leg hooking onto mine. I sucked harder, teeth nipping, hands kneading, testing how much she wanted. She cried out, a guttural sound, and her lower body surged toward me, seeking relief. Her hands gripped my hair in a tight fist that bordered on painful. Good. She was no fragile flower. Because my need was so brutal right now I was likely to break her. I should take my time, I knew I should. But she’d been invading my mind and body for weeks, and my greed for her knew no bounds now that it was unleashed.

I left her breasts, sucking and biting and devouring her skin as I moved down. It would leave marks, and somehow, I wanted to. I shoved her legs apart, and she spread them wide. I boldly lifted one, pressing it back, opening her fully. My dick strained against the bedding and towel beneath me, urging me to rut with the bed just to get some relief. Especially as I inhaled the scent of her, lightly soapy from her shower laced with the faint musk of her arousal that glistened in her pink folds and on her tight little entrance.

My mouth watered, and lightening zipped down to my balls. I was in danger of coming too soon. I tried to slow myself down. I breathed her in and snuck my tongue out for a quick taste, licking up the seam of her.

She gasped and thrust her hips up. I did it again. Softly. Torturing us both, trying to slow my heart down that pounded so heavily she could probably feel the vibration through the bed. I began whispering things between each little taste. French things. Things I knew she couldn’t understand, and it made me feel free. Things about her body only, to remind myself this was just sex. I told her how gorgeous her pussy was. How pink. How perfect. How sweet. How wet. How she’d bewitched me. With my fingers, I spread her open, tasting deeper. Telling her how I couldn’t wait to be inside her. I tested her with my fingers, the burning heat closing over my skin. The sounds she made like last night in the club, sang through my senses. I closed my whole mouth over her, tongue probing, and ending with a deep suck on her clit.

She thrashed and her legs tensed. “Xavier,” she whimpered. “Please.”

I did it again, and again, honed in on that sweet spot with rhythmic persistence. Inside her, my finger pressed upward.

“God. Yes.” Her hands held my head, her body hardly moving it was coiled so tightly. “Right there. Please don’t stop.” She didn’t even breathe. It was like every single part of her stopped and coiled as I worked her.

She waited.

She strained.