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And I do.

I don’t dive in fast. I just look first, really look. She’s glistening, flushed, so swollen and ready I could come just from the sight of her.

But I’ve got better plans.

I lean in and lick a slow stripe through her folds, just enough to get a taste. Her whole body jumps, her breath hiccups, and my name slips out of her like a prayer.

“Mm,” I hum against her, dragging my tongue up again, this time pausing to circle her clit, slow and steady. “Sound even better than I imagined.”

She lets out a broken moan, thighs trembling around my shoulders. My hands grip her hips, holding her open, keeping her still while I get to work.

I lap at her with long, deliberate strokes, tongue teasing, tasting, memorizing. I don’t rush a damn thing. I take my time. Let her feel every second of it.

When I flick my tongue just right, she cries out, hips bucking into my mouth. I groan, low and deep, and pin her a little tighter, mouth locking on, tongue circling her clit in tight, slow pulses.

“God, Wade, I can’t,” she says.

“Yes, you can,” I murmur, voice muffled against her. “You will.”

I slip one hand down, fingers sliding through her slick before easing one inside. She gasps, head falling back. I keep my mouth on her clit while I pump slow, steady strokes, curling my finger just so. When I add a second, she moans louder, hips lifting off the bed like she’s trying to climb into my mouth.

“That’s it,” I murmur. “You’re doin’ so good for me. Just fall apart, honey. I got you.”

Her legs tremble around me, her breath stutters, and then she breaks.

She comes with a full-body shudder, back arching, thighs clenching around my head. I groan again, tasting her, drinking her in like she’s the sweetest damn thing I’ve ever been given.

When she finally goes still, boneless and breathless, I pull back and kiss her inner thigh. Then the other. Then the soft curve of her hip, just because I can.

She looks wrecked. Perfect.

But I’m not done.

I rise slow, wiping my mouth on the back of my hand, and crawl over her body. She’s flushed all over, hair a mess, lips kiss-swollen, chest heaving. And those eyes? Blown wide and locked on me like I’m the only thing keeping her from drifting off the edge again.

I brush her hair back, lean down, kiss her sweet.

“You still with me?” I whisper.

She nods, breathless. “More.”

I groan, forehead dropping to hers. “You tryin’ to kill me, darlin’?”

Her smile is slow and filthy. “Not yet.”

I chuckle, reach down to stroke myself, slow, teasing her slick entrance with the head of my cock. She moans when I press against her, hips lifting in invitation.

And yeah, I want this. But I don’t just want to fuck her. I want to fill her. I want to feel every goddamn inch of her wrapped around me while I make her fall apart again, slow and steady, the way she deserves.

I push in, slow and deep, inch by inch.

She gasps, hands flying to my back, nails dragging down my spine as I slide inside her.

“Shit,” I hiss, forehead pressing to her shoulder. “You feel so goddamn good, baby.”

I hold still for a beat, just feeling her, tight, hot, pulsing around me. She shifts under me, hips rolling, and I groan like a man about to lose his mind.

I start to move. Slow. Controlled. Deep.