His fingers tangled in the sides of her white underwear, but he didn’t move them. Instead, he fell forward and started kissing at her chest. Mary gasped for air when he sucked one of her nipples into his mouth, almost harshly. He scooped at her breasts, rounding them, pillowing them, burying his stubbly face in her softness. He started an unfamiliar rhythm. A tug-scrape-smooth using his lips and teeth and tongue against one nipple and then the other. Mary felt a string pull tight inside her, and she opened her mouth, chasing the feeling as she stared unseeing at the sunlight and shadow on his ceiling. His rhythm was methodical, purposeful, the way some men went down on a woman with a specific goal in mind.

Her hips started to buck underneath him. She hooked a leg around him and began to grind herself against his body, any part of his body, seeking friction at all and every cost.

“John,” she gasped, tossing her head to one side as her fingers ached from how hard she gripped his comforter. “John.”

He was going to make her come with nothing more than his mouth at her breasts, his strong hands caging her in.

At the last second, he pulled away, roughly pushing open her legs and tugging the seam of her underwear to one side. John ducked his head and tongue-kissed her between her legs, ending on a seeking suck that, like a star pulling tight in the moments before explosion, had her trembling on the edge of something world-ending. He slightly softened the suck, flicked his tongue, and Mary was gone.

She screamed his name, grateful he was pinning her thighs down because her entire body shook violently. Her world tumbled, dragging Mary along with it. She gasped for air, but it didn’t help the rainbow of spots that appeared in her vision as she said his name over and over again.

He kneaded at her wetness softly with his tongue and lips, as if making certain to press out every single aftershock. When she was finally able to look down, she saw immediately that his gentle mouth was at direct odds with his blazing eyes. Black and white, two-toned voice, rude and sweet, two men at once. He watched her with a look she’d never seen before from him.

She reached down and grabbed a handful of his shirt, yanking hard enough to stretch the fabric. He heeded. As he came up onto his knees, she sat up with him and they both ripped his shirt off. She barely had time to see the thatch of hair across his wide chest, his strong arms where they plugged into round shoulders and smoothly arcing collarbones. She barely saw it because he tumbled her backward.