Jesus fucking Christ, what this guy does to me.

Will presses a soft kiss just below my ear, that is so fucking at odds with the firm hold he has on my cock, that all I can do is lay there uselessly, staring up at the ceiling as he goddamn annihilates me.

Distantly, I can’t help but notice that my dad’s voice is nowhere to be found this time. That that disgust so fucking ingrained in me since I was eleven years old is nothing more than a microscopic tick in the back of my head. Easily ignored. Easily pushed away.

I don’t dare give it a second thought.

Because in this moment, all I see and feel and taste and hear is Will. And he is, and has always been, so much bigger than anything else in my life. It was never a question of whether or not he could consume me—it was always just a matter of me letting go enough to let him.

I was wrong the night of the storm. There isn’t nothing inside me. There’s everything. And Will’s been the key to unleashing it all along.

His hand starts to slow, and I whimper in protest. Maybe later, I’ll be embarrassed, but right now, all I feel is need. Stark, hot need. “Please.”

“Shh,” Will whispers into my ear, before dragging his lips over my temple. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you.”

And then he’s moving. Back down toward my chest, his mouth hones in on my nipple. He bites the pebbled peak before flicking his tongue over it. He moves over to the pierced one, and it’s all hot, wet warmth and sharp teeth.

He looks up at me through his lashes with a smile that should be fucking illegal. “Gonna make you feel so good.”

My toes curl—actually fucking curl—with anticipation as he starts trailing open-mouthed kisses over my stomach, tracing the grooves of my clenched-to-shit muscles with his tongue.

As if they have a mind of their own, my hands cup the sides of his skull, and I start pushing him down toward where I want him.

He chuckles, flashing me a knowing look through his lashes. “Pushy.”

“Tease,” I say through my teeth. “Just suck me already.”

His eyes widen. “You talk to all your hook-ups like this?”

I glare. “You’re not a fucking hook-up.”

He grins smugly. “No. I’m not.”

“Exactly,” I bite out on a groan as he dips his tongue into my belly button—my fucking belly button—as the fleshy head of my cock bumps up against his neck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

He falls back on his knees and spreads my legs with his hands. He smiles wickedly up at me, and I know it’s because he can feel how close I am. How wrecked I already am, and he hasn’t even put his mouth on me yet.