“Then be here.” She pulls me down again. “With me. Just be here.”
I learn her body like a language I was never meant to speak but suddenly understand. The spot behind her ear that makes her shiver. The curve of her waist where she’s ticklish if I touch too light. The sound she makes when I kiss down her stomach, a breathy little moan that I want to hear for the rest of my life.
I unhook her bra. Slide it off. And I have to stop.
Have to just look at her.
“Enzo?”
“You’re.” I don’t have words. I never have words. “I just need a second.”
She’s perfect. All smooth skin and soft curves, nipples tight from the air or maybe from my stare. The kind of beautiful that makes my chest ache.
She’s looking at me like I might be worth undressing for. And she trusts me not to ruin this.
I lower my mouth to her breast. Take her nipple between my lips. Gentle. Testing.
She gasps. Her back bows off the bed. Her fingers dig into my shoulders. “More,” she breathes. “Please.”
I give her more.
Suck and tongue and teeth, testing what makes her gasp and what makes her whimper. Switching sides. Letting my stubble scrape just enough to leave her squirming.
She’s so damn responsive, every little flick pulls a sound from her. Quiet moans. Shaky breath. My name, again and again.
I work my way down her body. Kissing. Tasting. Taking my time even though I’m so hard it hurts, even though every instinct screams at me to take, to claim, to bury myself inside her and lose myself completely.
I reach the waistband of her underwear. Look up at her. “Yes?”
“Yes.” Her eyes are glassy. Her chest rising fast. “God, yes.”
I slide them down slow. Watching her. Letting her feel me look.
Her thighs part and it’s all I can do not to drop my fucking soul right there.
She’s wet. Flushed pink and slick and mine.
I settle between her legs. Kiss her thigh. The inside of her knee. The soft skin high on her hip.
She says my name. Just Enzo. I’m not sure if it’s a command or a prayer.
And I give in to either.
One long lick, bottom to top, slow and greedy.
She cries out. Her hips buck. I pin them down with one hand, firm but not bruising, controlled, the way I’ve learned to control everything, and do it again.
She tastes fucking divine. Sweet and sharp and salt. I groan into her. Get drunk on it. Get addicted.
I eat like I fight: focused. Intentional. Every pass of my tongue is a question, and every moan she gives me is the answer.
She’s falling apart already. Writhing.
I suck her clit, slow and deep and mean, and her whole body locks up.
“Enzo, fuck, I’m going to.”
I don’t stop. I want this. Want her to come on my mouth, want to be the reason she loses it.
