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I lower her onto the sheets. Pulse pounding. Cock throbbing. Spurred on by the knowledge that she needs this as badly as I do. For a second, I just look at her, laid out before me, her chest rising, her lips swollen from our kissing.

And she’s fucking breathtaking. Mine.

I lower myself to her, gentle but certain, aware that her nerves are probably heightened, her body sensitive.

I skim the curve of her waist, the fullness of her thighs, the swell of her hips.

Her skin is fever-warm and rosy, and I trace every curve as if to memorize her.

Her breath catches when my thumb grazes a hardened nipple covered in my soft tee.

I lift it wordlessly and remove it so she’s bared to me.

Her back arches into me as I take my time kissing, licking, sucking. Her shoulders and breasts, nipples and navel. Her body responds to every touch as if she’s made for this, made for me. I take my time teasing and testing, savoring the connection and need.

I lower my mouth to her hips, yank off her panties, and spread her legs.

“Vadka,” she whispers.

“Open,” I order, nudging her thighs apart. “Spread your legs for me. Give me that sweet, wet cunt. I want to taste you.”

Biting her lip, she holds my gaze as she spreads her legs, and I groan.

Mother fucker she’s wet and hot, and I fucking want her.

I taste her clit and moan again, nuzzling the tip of my tongue in her center before I lap lazily.

My eyes flutter closed in pleasure, and she moans my name as her fingers tangle in my hair.

She’s soaked , glowing with heat, slick with want. My mouth waters. My cock throbs. Every ounce of control I’ve had unravels as I spread her legs wider and drop to my knees. I’ve tasted, and now I want to feast.

I press a kiss to her thigh reverently, then another, slower, higher, my hands spreading her wider as I settle between her legs.

I love worshipping her like this. I love the way her breath catches, and she trembles.

I love the way my rough, darker hands look against her soft, pale thighs as I spread her wide and inhale the scent of her sex.

I groan and hear her sharp inhale. I smell her arousal, sweet and heady, and when I finally lean back in to give her the faintest stroke of my tongue—just a tease—she gasps like she’s been waiting for this forever.

“You’re fucking perfect,” I growl, my voice ragged, lips dragging over the sensitive, damp, delicate skin of her thigh. She arches, desperate, already panting. And then I really taste her.

One long, slow stroke, savoring the way she tastes on my tongue. I grind my mouth into her harder as her hips buck and her fingers tighten in my hair, pulling like she can’t help herself. I nip her clit, just enough to make her hiss and her hips jerk.

“Be a good girl,” I whisper into her thighs.

“Yes,” she whispers, breathless. “Fuck yes. ”

I smile against her, then flatten my tongue and lick again, slow and deep, dipping into her and dragging upward, circling her clit in lazy, wet strokes.

Her thighs tremble. I love it. I want her to come undone on my mouth.

I want her to lose herself to me. It’s vulnerable and erotic, and I’m fucking savoring every second.

I suck her clit into my mouth, gently at first, teasing her with the rhythm, then her whole body arches. I don’t stop. I won’t. I wrap my arms under her thighs and press her down, holding her in place as I work a slow, relentless rhythm.

My tongue flicks and swirls, strokes. My mouth devours. Worships. She’s a fucking miracle, and I’m starving .

Her cries are sharper now, desperate and sweet and broken. She rolls her hips against me, chasing more—faster, deeper, harder—and I give it to her. I drag two fingers through her wet heat and curl them inside her. She wails , desperate and needy.

“My god, please don’t stop. Please keep going, just like that,” she says in a heated whisper, clutching me as if I’ll keep her from drowning, and she’s sinking lower.

Stop ? I’m just getting started.

I drive my fingers in deep, tongue circling, lapping, until I feel her come apart. Her thighs clamp. Her stomach tightens. Her moans rise into a crescendo.

She shatters. My cock jerks. Her body writhes against me, her muscles contracting as she comes so fucking hard, pulsing around my fingers. I keep going, easing her through it, licking her softer now, gently, as she trembles and whimpers and clings to me.

And when she finally collapses, breathless and shaking, I kiss her one more time.

“I could do this all fucking night.”

“Oh my god.” She moans, wrecked. “I’d fucking die.”

My chuckle is low and wicked as I slowly rise and strip off my clothes, my cock thick and straining between us.

“On your hands and knees. Tits down, ass up, spread wide for me, Ruthie.”

I give her a good slap to the ass, and she squeals. My cock throbs at the sight of my handprint across her perfect ass cheek .

My name’s still trembling on her lips when I rise, towering over her, breathing hard, cock swollen and aching with need. She looks up at me with glassy, thoroughly fucked eyes, lips parted, her skin glowing with sweat and satisfaction—and I’m not done with her. Not even close.

She scrambles to obey, still trembling as she turns over, arching for me, offering herself like something sacred and filthy all at once. Her ass is high, thighs parted just enough to make my breath catch. She's dripping. Flushed. Mine.

I palm her ass and give it a firm smack, watching it jiggle, loving the sound of her sharp gasp. A perfect little squeal. My twin handprints rise fast and red across her cheek, and I groan, barely restraining the urge to slam into her right then and there.

“You feel that, sweetheart?” I growl, rubbing where I struck her, soothing as much as I mark. “That’s mine. This body? Mine .”

“Yes,” she gasps out, pushing back into my hand. “Yours.”

Pride swells in me. No one owns this woman without her consent, and she’s mine.

I grab her hips, squeezing hard, angling her just right. My other hand trails up her spine, fingers curling into her hair, giving a gentle tug that pulls a needy moan from her throat.

“You want my cock, baby?” I whisper into her ear, bending over her back, voice dangerous and full of dark promise. “You want me to fill this tight little pussy while you whimper and beg and take every goddamn inch I give you?”

“Yes. Please,” she cries. “Please, I need you—need you so bad. I want you inside me. I need your cock. I need you to fuck me—hard. Deep. I want you to ruin me.”

That’s it. That’s fucking it.

I grip her hips and slam into her in one smooth, ruthless thrust, burying myself to the hilt with a moan. She cries out, loud and raw, her fingers digging into the sheets as her body takes me, stretches for me, welcomes me.

“God damn,” I hiss through my teeth, rocking back to watch her swallow me whole again. “You take me so fucking good. Just like that. Just like you were made to.”

Her walls flutter around me, hot and tight, gripping me like a vice. I start to move, slow at first—deep, grinding thrusts that make her sob. I stay low over her, chest brushing her back, hand tangled in her hair, the other gripping her hip hard.

“I want you to remember this,” I growl in her ear. “Every time you sit. Every time you walk. I want you sore and dripping with me.”

She’s panting into the sheets, and I love her like this—undone, used, and adored. I shift my angle, pistoning into her with increasing speed, driving deep, hitting the spot that makes her scream my name into the mattress.

“You’re so fucking wet for me,” I snarl, pounding into her. “Good girl. Let me feel that pretty pussy squeeze me while you come. Let me hear you scream.”

And she does—screams, actually, her whole body seizing as she shatters again, tighter than ever, pulsing around me like she’s trying to pull me deeper, like she never wants to let me go .

I groan loud, losing control, thrusting into her hard and fast… no restraint now, chasing my own edge. “Fuck, you’re so perfect?—”

I slam in one final time and spill into her, bliss claiming me, burying myself to the root, holding her down as I come so hard it feels like the world splits open.

We stay there—breathless, trembling, slick and soaked in each other. I stroke her spine, still inside her, keeping her grounded. I don’t want to leave.

“You okay?” I murmur, pressing a kiss to the back of her neck.

She nods against the sheets, her voice hoarse but content. “More than okay.”

I smile.

“You’re not done,” I promise, nipping at her shoulder. “Not even close.”