Your bra slips from your body and hits the floor. Cold air tightens your nipples instantly. I do not rush. I let you feel it before my mouth claims them. My lips close around one, then the other, slow and deliberate. I suck just hard enough to make them ache. You feel the line between pleasure and pain and you stay right there because I keep you there.

Heat blooms low in your stomach and spreads through your body. Your toes curl. You grow wetter without being touched where you need it most.

I leave your breasts and slide my hands down your torso, unhurried, confident. I unbutton your shorts and guide them off your hips. You stand there in red and black polka dot panties, exposed, waiting. The small sound you make tells me you are already desperate.

My fingers trace the inside of your thighs. Light. Teasing. Never where you want them yet. When they finally reach the lace of your panties, I circle slowly over the fabric, hovering just above your slit. Your clit responds immediately, pulsing, aching. You push your hips forward, asking without words.

I pull away.

Then I return and press my fingers firmly over the fabric covering your clit. The gasp you let out is sharp and uncontrollable. I hook my fingers into the lace and pull your panties down inch by inch. Your clit hardens as it’s exposed, throbbing openly now. Your scent fills the air and I breathe it in like it belongs to me.

My fingers circle your clit again, steady, patient, controlled. I watch your body react before you do. When I brush directly over it, your body shudders and you go silent, holding everything in because it feels too good to release.

I slide two fingers into you. Slow. Deep. You clamp down instinctively, your muscles tightening around me. I pull out, my fingers slick with you, and bring them to my mouth. I taste you, then hold them to your lips. You open without hesitation and take them in. I remove them and slide them back into you like nothing interrupted us.

I lower myself and kiss down your body, stopping just close enough to make you ache. My tongue touches your clit and moves in slow circles. My fingers match the rhythm inside you. I change the speed whenever your breathing starts to steady. Every time you think you can handle it, I take that away.

Your hips press forward. Your back arches. Your body is no longer subtle.

I close my lips around your clit and suck. Harder this time. Your gasp breaks free. My fingers keep moving inside you, relentless, precise. I replace my mouth with my hand, the change in pressure making you throb harder.

I do not stop. I do not rush.

My hand keeps circling at exactly the pace that drives you out of your mind. Fast enough to ruin your focus. Slow enough to deny you release. My other hand thrusts steadily, deep, controlled. I feel you tightening, pulsing, giving yourself away completely.

The heat inside you swells and climbs. I increase the pressure. I increase the speed. I do not let up.

You break.

Your body arches hard off the bed, hands gripping the sheets as you cry out my name. Pleasure floods through you in waves, leaving you shaking, breathless, undone. When it finally fades, you collapse back onto the mattress, spent, open, completely empty of resistance.