“You sure?” Her hands sweep lightly over my back muscles and down the jagged sides of the knife cuts.
“Nothing you could do would ever hurt me,” I tell her. Even if she ran away from me. Even if she decides that she doesn’t want to have anything to do with me—none of that would be her fault. She didn’t hurt me. The situation would kill me. The idea that she couldn’t love me back would hurt me. But those are all my feelings and I’ll own them.
I’d take any number of knife cuts to my body for this one night with her. To be able to place my lips against her skin. To suckle on her tits. To hear her cry my name as I tongue her to an orgasm. Anything that I will ever endure or suffer after this will be worth it. Worth. It.
I slide my hands up those silky legs to the back of her thighs, pulling down the boxers, and tug her forward. Her scent is rich, not just soap and water, but . . . arousal. A musky, earthy scent that suddenly has my mouth pooling with saliva. No bakery in France ever smelled so enticing or fragrant.
Then I lift her T-shirt up and find nothing but bare skin. She’s shaved everywhere. The smooth skin between her pale thighs is the most erotic vision I’ve been privileged to view.
“Beautiful,” I repeat reverently. I press my nose against her and inhale the scent of her need. She shudders at the touch and her fingers dig into the muscles of my shoulder. I want nail marks. I want her so wild that she flays me with her nails and teeth. I’m going to wrench hair-pulling, throating-scratching orgasms from her tonight. “That’s right. Show me how much you want this.”
“I do,” she says. Her own breath is choppy. My breath is coming in short, uneven pants, too. I’ve never been so excited, so fraught with anticipation. Every part of me is reaching toward her. She’s the magnet and I’m a mass of tiny metal filings finding home for the first time in my pathetic life.
I tuck my hand between her legs, and holy fuck is she wet. My plans, the ones that involved a long, drawn-out finger-fucking, go out the window.
“Hands on the bed, sweetheart,” I tell her as I scoot off the side of the mattress to sit between her thighs. She leans forward, her breasts dangling in front of me. The T-shirt that barely disguised any of her charms pisses me off, because I want to see those lush tits swaying in front of my face. I take the bottom of the T-shirt in my teeth and with my two hands rip the whole thing right up the front.
She yelps in surprise and slaps her hand against her chest. “Holy shit, did you just bite and rip the T-shirt off?” She laughs, a sound that is cut off when I suck one of her juicy tits into my mouth.
“You’re fucking right I did.”
With my rough palm, I abrade her other nipple until it is taut and ready for my mouth. Her legs start shaking and I have to abandon her tits to hold her upright, and the motion brings her sopping * right to my mouth.
I groan at the sight and scent of her. The liquid of her * is dripping down her thighs. There’s a trail of juice that doesn’t end until it’s halfway down her leg. I lap it up. I lap that wet, succulent path all the way up to its source. There, in the hot, sodden cavern between her legs are so many things I want to suck and bite at one time. It’s a wonderland and I barely know where to start. Do I tongue her cunt until she creams on my tongue? Do I suck on her lips? Do I lash her clit until she can’t stand straight? Don’t fuck it up, Rafael.
“Shit, sweetheart. I can kill a man a dozen ways. I can last for two weeks in the tit-frozen north. I can lead you out of the jungle, but I don’t know what I’m doing here and I don’t want to fuck it up. I’m so hungry for you. If I don’t get my mouth on you . . .” I trail off and lick her from asshole to clit and back again.
“That’s good. Whatever you’re doing now is good,” she pants out.
“I want you to keep talking to me. Keep telling me what you like. What you don’t like.” I want inside that *. I may never get my dick in her, but I will tongue her better than any motherfucker who ever existed. I will get so proficient at making Ava come with my tongue, my fingers, my words that she will never want for anything. She will always be satisfied. Always.
I place a thumb on either side of her red, engorged * lips and arrow my tongue inside her.
“Oh God, yes, Rafe. Do that. Again.”
Her cunt is soft and tight and so very wet. If we were in the desert, I could live just drinking her juice. I stab at her, thrusting inside and memorizing everything. When my jaw rubs against thighs, she trembles. When my tongue rubs against her lips, she moans. I catalog every moan, shudder, and movement.