My own personal alarm clock.

Waking me up his favorite way.

I hear him spit, and I yank the duvet off both of us.

“Hey!” I scold. He knows I’m teasing based on the way he smiles against my wanting core without looking up to meet my gaze.

“Don’t do that without warning me.”

That gets his attention.

“I thought you loved it when I spit on you, princess?” He’s smirking like a fool—like my fool—no doubt waiting for my sassy response.

“I do love it, but watching is half the fun. Warn me next time so I don’t miss it.”

“Like this?” he challenges, locking me in his gaze, staring into my damn soul for a moment, then finally spitting with such precision it lands right on my clit.

Goddamn.

My man is good, and he knows it. I can’t help the mewl that escapes me.

“Just like that,” I pant, bucking my hips in encouragement before he travels back down to finish what he started.

He uses both hands to spread me open, alternating between running the flat of his tongue up my center and swirling the tip around my needy, swollen clit.

When he pushes his tongue inside me, I just about lose it. I reach down and tug on his hair, spurring him on and fucking his face.

I think I could come from his tongue-fucking alone, but then he moves up to suck on my clit, and I swear I levitate off the bed.

“Dem,” I pant, because I’m so close, and he feels so good, and I don’t know whether I want him to make this last all morning or make me detonate right now. “Dem,” I croon again, my hips matching his rhythm as he pulls me into his mouth with greedy, desperate sucks.

My whole body tenses in anticipation before the first wave of pleasure crests and sends me toppling over the edge.

As soon as my orgasm starts, he rises to his knees, lines up his cock, and pushes in, angling his shallow thrusts so he hits my G-spot over and over again.

It’s bliss.

I’m in ecstasy.

I never want this moment to end.

I don’t get a break. I can barely catch my breath. One orgasm crescendos into another, and then I’m coming again, clenching him so hard he curses.

“Fuckkk, Maddie,” he groans as he works himself deeper into my pulsating pussy.

Fuck, indeed.

That’ll do it.

We both freeze when we hear the first whimper outside the closed bedroom door.

I roll my eyes and smirk up at my very worked up but oh-so-whipped fiancé.

The irony is that it doesn’t matter how loud I am. I can pant, moan, and scream at the top of my lungs, and Hudson couldn’t care less.