She pulls off, her lips glossy, her breath warm against my skin as she looks up at me through thick lashes, her fingers stroking slow, steady, keeping me on the edge, keeping me suffering. “Carter.”

I can barely focus, barely keep my eyes open, barely do anything but whimper when she says my name like that. She tilts her head, watching me, waiting. Then, soft but commanding, wrecking, completely taking me apart… she says, “Touch me.”

I suck in a breath, my entire body tensing, because I know she means it. She’s done letting me hold back. Shaky, hesitant, I reach for her, sliding my fingers into her hair, letting myself feel the softness, the way she leans into my touch like she’s been waiting for it. She hums, pleased, dragging her tongue over me again, making my grip tighten, making my breath come out ragged.

And then she moans around me. I whimper again softly, my hips jerking, my entire body tightening so fast I barely manage to stay in control, and I know I’m so fucking close. I don’t want it to end. I don’t want her to stop. I don’t want this moment, this feeling, this complete and total unraveling, to ever fucking end.

“Please don’t stop. P-p-please, I’ll do anything.”

I mean it.

I’d give her anything.

My body. My breath. My fucking soul. Haven’s mouth is still on me, hot and wet and perfect, her tongue dragging over every inch of me, her hands teasing, working me, wrecking me.

I can barely breathe. I can barely think. Everything is tight, pressure building so fast I already know I won’t last much longer.

She fucking knows it. She’s humming around me, making these little pleased, satisfied sounds like she’s enjoying this just as much as I am, like she’s soaking up every single way my body is reacting to her.

And I can’t take it anymore. I reach down, gripping her wrist, pulling slightly, trying to get her attention, trying to find my voice even though it’s coming out completely weak.

“Haven, stop—I’m—fu”

She pulls off, her lips swollen, her breath warm as she looks up at me, her fingers still wrapped around me, stroking slow, teasing. “You don’t like it?” she asks, tilting her head, voice smooth, sultry, completely aware of how fucking gone I am for her.

I groan, my head tipping back against the couch, my hands tightening in her hair before I force myself to meet her gaze again. “I love it,” I say, voice hoarse, barely holding together.

Her lips curl, like she already knew that. “Then why stop?”