The filthy words I’ve waited so long to hear are my demise. The orgasm races through me, charging from the top of my head to the end of my toes. My whole body convulses and spirals, the most intense wave of satisfaction overtaking me. Henry never ceases his attack, guiding me through blinding bursts of pleasure. His tongue stays fully buried in me, fingers digging into my thighs to steady me.

After a length of time rivaling eternity, my limbs stop shaking. My exerted breathing subsides. My eyes flutter open, finding Henry lifting his head, lips and mouth damp and shimmering under the light. Carefully, he lowers my feet back to the mattress, kissing each ankle as my soles return from their suspension on his shoulders.

He moves up the bed, positioning himself behind me and gathering me in his arms. Spinning me so we’re facing each other, his lips tackle mine and I’m able to taste myself—taste us—a fresh blossom of excitement stirring within me as I savor the residual aftermath.

I’m on top of the world.

He kisses me passionately. We’re one person, fused together. My tongue darts out, cleaning up the mess I’ve created, running along the line of his lips, corner to corner.

“Do you see how delicious you are? Decadent. Sweet. One time and I’m fucking addicted, Emma.”

This is a different man from whom I’ve encountered over the last 17 years. This is Henry unleashed and unrestrained. Not refined or polished. Not professional. He’s raw and animalistic. Possessive and territorial. And, God, what a perfect version of him.

Is he like this with every woman, primal and in control? Has he whispered praises in their ears as they reached the peak of fulfillment by his hand?

This is my eternal downfall. Overthinking and worry begin to kick in, threatening to ruin a perfect moment. As if sensing my question, he kisses me gently, softly, more… lovingly, shoving the doubt far away and locking it in an unreachable compartment.

“You. Only you bring out this side of me, Sunflower. No one else.”

I sniff, wiping my eyes, unintended tears escaping. I’m sated. My muscles are heavy. My body is pleased. I could either sleep for nine hours due to exhaustion or run eight miles due to adrenaline.

And that nickname.

Sunflower.

It pierces my heart more prominently than any other affectionate word he’s used so far. It’s personalized. Designed for me by him. A secret, private story behind the name that only we share and no one else will ever know.

“That was incredible.”

“You’re crying. Talk to me.”

“I’m not crying. It’s a side effect from your manhandling.”

Henry kisses my hair, lips lingering in my defunct curls. “Manhandling, huh? So much for slow. I’m sorry.”

“I’m fine, I promise. That was perfect.”

“Should I grab you another Zebra Cake so you can regain some consciousness?”