The sight was obscene: my own legs pushed wide, his strong hands pinning my thighs open, his mouth working me like he was starving and I was the only thing that could feed him. Perfect. Filthy. Devastating.
He must have felt my gaze because he lifted his eyes, slow, deliberate, meeting mine while his tongue never stopped circling. The eye contact was a gut-punch. I saw myself reflected in that dark stare: wrecked, flushed, mouth open on a silent sob, tears clinging to my lashes, cock still twitching against my stomach even after coming.
I looked like a man who had already surrendered everything and was still begging for more. Too much. The visual slammed into the physical sensation like a second wave.
I couldn't hold his gaze.
My head slammed back against the pillow, eyes squeezing shut as a fresh, broken moan tore out of me. My hands flew down to his head, fingers tangling in his hair, trying to push him away.
