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“Eat me out.”

“Eat what out?”

Oh, God. Oh, God. I open my eyes. Lock my gaze with his.

“Eat out my pussy.”

“Better.”

He presses his face to my sex. Drags his nose over my wetness. He worships me with his mouth, his tongue, and his soft murmurs of how beautiful I am, how good I taste, and how good I smell.

He laps up my wetness. Sucks on my clit. I fist the covers in one hand. Fist his hair in the other. I press him against my heat. Implore him to please, please, eat me out. I expect my pleas to be met with him being rough with his mouth and his tongue. Instead, he explores my slit and my folds with a gentleness that has me squeezing my eyes shut and an ache heavy in my chest.

He cares.

Taron cares about my needs. That I get off. That I am liking us making love. Making love. Not sex. Not a hookup with a random guy. But making love with the man I want in my life as we progress through life together. Because isn’t that what life is, a work in progress?

“Taron?”

“Hmm?”

“I like you.”

His chuckle reverberates against my sex. “I like you too, Pixie Dust. No regrets?”

“None.”

“Good.” He sucks on my clit, and I shatter, coming so hard, my eyes roll into the back of my head.

He licks more. Sucks more. Too much. Oh my God, his mouth on my sex as I’m coming off my toe-curling climax is too much. I shove him away. He is not having it. Taron hooks his arms under my trembling thighs and covers my sex with his mouth. The aftershocks are mind-blowing.

I sink into the bed. Smile. Stretch my hands above my head. I am the pussy cat that got her way. The pussy cat getting stroked as the sun heats her.

Sated, I reach for him. “Inside me. Now.”

He doesn’t hold back. With one thrust, he is all the way inside me. I suck in a breath at how well he fills me. I am full of his thickness. Stretched to the max. Moaning, I sling my arm over my eyes and breathe in and out.

“Am I hurting you?”

“No. You feel so good, Taron. It’s never felt this good.”

“Then you’ve been with the wrong guys, baby.”

I take my arm away from my eyes. He’s staring down at me with this shit-eating grin on his face, and I love it. So stinking love his smugness. Grabbing him by the back of his head, I bring him down to me and smash my mouth on his. He opens to me. Our tongues tangle. Our breaths mingle.

He thrusts into me. Fast. Hard. Deep. I demand he go faster, harder, and deeper. My body tingles. My breaths come out in spurts. Pulling back my knees, I grab on to his ass cheeks and tip up my hips. He slides his palms under my butt and pounds into me.

The bed shakes. My head nudges the headboard, and I am seeing stars, but for a different reason. Like the delicious throbbing between my legs and the thickness stretching my sex kind of reason. Done with my head bouncing off the headboard with every thrust from him, Taron helps me move down the bed, away from the headboard.

Grateful, I hook one leg over his hip. Bring the other knee up. It’s the perfect move. The best position. He goes deeper. Hits a spot that eases the throbbing in my sex. He pulls out of me. I whimper.

“I gotta go deeper, baby.”

“Deeper than how deep you were?”

“Yes, Pixie Dust. I want to make you feel so good. Let me.”

I nod, my insides clenching with longing, my arousal pouring from me. Taron cinches his hands around my ankles. Sets my heels on his wide shoulders. I am spread wide for him. My legs shake. Molten heat sweeps over me. Impatient, I reach down and finger my clit. It’s swollen. Slippery. I moan. Rub at the slippery knot.