“Fuck, Mackenzie,” I rasp. “Look at you.”
It’s still a little frightening, the urges that roil inside me to make my emotions murky and my senses turbid when I’m with her like this. It’s almost like there is another person inside me trying to claw its way out and touch more of her, taste more, just . . . more.
I hear her breath catch when I nudge my shoulders between her thighs to settle there, my fingers curling around each one to hold her close as the aroma of her slick only worsens the feral urges that I’m doing my best to bridle down. My breath is ragged, and I can feel my eyes roll back as I breathe her in, barely able to contain myself as I lean in to let my nose nuzzle against the patch of dark blond curls as I tentatively tease my tongue through her wet center.
“Ah,” she gasps. “Noah, that’s—”
I do it again, with less hesitance this time. My tongue passes through her folds as the taste of her makes me dizzy. The front of my slacks is stiff and uncomfortable, and I flex my hips against the bed for some relief as I swirl my tongue around the little bundle of nerves at her apex. I like the sounds she makes, like the way her fingers card through my hair to tug—all of it only spurring me on, only making me want more.
I grip her thighs tighter as her heels dig into my shoulders, focusing my attention on the swollen bud of her clit even as her slick wets my chin. I close my eyes as I let the soft sounds of her hitched breath heat my blood, teasing her with the back-and-forth swipe of my tongue before I wrap my lips around the most sensitive part of her to suck. She cries out in a quiet, almost wordless way—as if it’s trapped in her throat. Her hands falling to my shoulders and the scratching of her nails against my shirt say more than enough though.
“R-right—right there,” she chokes out. “Can you—a little harder—ah.”
I hum against her core, pulling at the taut bud of her clit as her back begins to bend, her hips jerking as if trying to escape of their own accord. I grip her thighs tighter, sucking at her messily as she softly gasps my name. Her skin under my hands is almost as hot as the softer flesh between her legs, so warm that it almost feels like she might melt against my tongue.
With every pull of my lips there is another trickle of her slick, each little bit only worsening those urges to bury myself inside her and keep her knotted until morning. There is a distant thought that wonders if these urges will just keep getting worse the more I touch her, but there is a more present one that says it absolutely doesn’t care as long as I can keep touching her.
“You taste”—I lick one hot stripe up her center—“as good as you feel.” I wrap my lips around her clit for one long pull that makes a wet sound when I release it. “I want to know what you taste like when you come.”
She lets out a strained laugh. “Well, if you keep doing that, it won’t be a prob—fuck.”
She lifts her hips to press deeper into my mouth when I focus all my attention on her clit, unwrapping one hand from her thigh and bringing it between us to tease a finger at her entrance. I hear her whimper when I press it inside, stroking her inner wall and pressing against it to rub deep circles there as my tongue makes a mess of her.
Her fingers go from tapping at my shoulder to tugging at my shirt and back again—a chorus of whined yeses and mhms ringing out into the quiet of my bedroom. Her thighs press harder against my ears as they begin to shake, and her back bows from the bed as her fingers drop to the comforter to twist in the fabric.
She’s panting my name when I feel her tip over the edge, and there is a satisfying gush of slick that I lap up even as it makes a mess. I can feel it on my lips and chin and even trickling down my neck, and still it’s like I can’t get enough. I want to do this almost as much as I want to be inside her again. I only pull away from her when I feel her hand snake between us to grab for my tie, urging me up from between her legs as I look at her in a daze.
There’s a dreamy sort of smile on her mouth as she winds the silk of my tie around her fist, giving it another gentle tug. “Get up here.”
I come like a puppy being called, with just as much eagerness—crawling over her until I’m hovering with my hands braced on either side of her. My breath is still ragged and I still feel a little wild, but her fingers reach to brush along my cheek, her thumb sliding across my lower lip; I can’t say why it’s so calming.
“Your first consult isn’t until nine,” she says calmly.
I nod. “That’s right.”