He steps forward, kicking my ankles apart. “Spread. Your. Legs.”
As I do, he steps between them, his hand moving over my thighs, spreading me wider. He kneels in front of me.
My heart is shuddering in my chest, feeling like a deer that’s just been caught by a tiger.
Langston licks his lips like he’s about to devour a feast. His eyes are a wicked shade of dark brown, swirling with the devious things he wants to do to my body.
And then he leans down, his fingers swiping my panties aside as his tongue licks down my slit.
I bite my lip to keep from screaming his name with one tou
ch, but my hands can’t stand to not touch him. I grab on his hair, pushing his head deeper between my folds.
He stops, his head popping up as he grabs my hands and places them on either side of the couch.
“If you touch me, I’ll stop, and you don’t want me to stop, baby.”
I frown. “Why would you stop?”
“You don’t get to control this.”
I dig my fingers into the couch cushions, trying to give up a little control as Langston once again licks my clit with his tongue.
My eyes roll at the pleasure shooting through my body. My lips part, needing more oxygen. Needing to grab him, but needing Langston to continue more.
He takes his time relentlessly licking over my clit like an endless lollipop. It’s torture, when what I really want is him to suck, twirl, and hum to bring my body to orgasm quickly, instead of this slow, torturous slog.
He has me so worked up that I can’t control myself, and I grab his hair.
He stops, once again moving my hands to the couch before continuing.
“You decide when you come, huntress. Not me.”
“What?” I breathe, confused because he’s clearly the one deciding by going so slowly.
He smiles between my folds before his finger plunges into me. “When you trust me, you’ll come.”
“I trust you.”
“You don’t.”
I frown, realizing I don’t trust him because the fear is still there. The fear that a man I care about could possibly not be enough. I could revert to my nightmares having hold of me.
“Let go,” he hums against my clit.
I do, exploding on his tongue as my orgasm pours out of my throat, and I call out his name.
I collapse against the couch, my head falling back as I catch my breath.
“My turn,” I say, eyeing his crotch.
He stands and exhales, as if blowing out smoke. “I’m going to bed.”
“What?” I snap up. He just gave me one hell of an orgasm, but it didn’t do anything to quench my thirst for him.
He grins. “You’re welcome to join me in bed.”
I sigh and lean back, refusing to give in. No matter how much my body wants it, I can’t give in.