He’s already breathless
and I haven’t even taken off his pants.
I love him like this—
laid out,
watching me
with that mix of need and awe
like he doesn’t know what I’ll do next.

i straddle him,
drag my fingers down his chest,
light, teasing—
and his hips twitch up,
just a little.
so responsive.
so easy to unravel.

I lean down,
press my lips to his neck,
his jaw,
his mouth—
slow kisses that make him chase me
when I pull back.

I slide lower.
kiss down his stomach.
his cock’s already hard,
thick and twitching,
and I smile,
because it’s mine.

I lick the tip—
just once—
just enough to hear him groan.
then I do it again,
slow,
flat-tongued,
watching his fingers curl into the sheets.

when I take him into my mouth,
I do it like a promise—
deep, slow,
messy.
I use my hands, my lips, my tongue
like a woman who knows exactly
how far she can push him
before he breaks.

he moans my name,
hips bucking,
and i pin them down—
look up at him,
mouth full,
and don’t stop
until his thighs are shaking
and his voice is raw
from all the yes, yes, fuck, don’t stop.

when he finally comes,
I take every drop,
wipe my mouth with the back of my hand,
and crawl back up his body
like I’m still hungry.

because I am.