Page 68 of Long Story Short

He then presses a kiss in the crease where my hip meets my pelvis—dangerously close to where I want him but still not there.

I’m about to say something—maybe even beg—when his fingers finally slide through me.

The feeling of him finally touching me there steals the air from my lungs. My body reacts instantly, my hips bucking, chasing the feeling. Another moan leaves my lips at the contact.

“There it is,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough. “You feel that?”

I can’t answer. Not when everything in me is focused on him—on what his finger is doing. On the way he moves it through my wetness and pays close attention to every breath and reaction from me.

“Every little touch,” he continues, his voice raspy, “and you fall apart for me.”

Heat courses through my veins at his words. My head falls backward and hits the counter as I let out another moan.

He doesn’t speed up or rush like I thought he would. It makes it worse—but also better at the same time.

His breath is warm against my clit. He’s holding my thighs open, forcing me to stay completely bared to him. “Can I?” he rasps.

All I can do is nod.

He pushes one thick finger inside me at the same moment his tongue circles my clit.

My hips buck at finally feeling his mouth there.

Tyson’s lips close around my clit, and he lets out a groan, the vibration from the sound feeling so good against my core. He sucks my clit into my mouth while his finger starts to push inside me faster.

His mouth leaves me for a moment. “Look at me,” he demands, before pressing his mouth to me once again.

I force my eyes open as hot desire runs through me again.

His gaze is locked on mine. It’s intense—like he just doesn’t want to taste me, he wants to watch what it does to me.

Like he’s learning me.

The realization makes my eyelids flutter shut again despite his command to look at him.

It’s not just what he’s doing. It’s the way he’s seeing me while he’s doing it, caring enough to learn what I like and make this incredible. I asked him to show me more, and he is.

“Ty,” I gasp, getting closer to coming—something that’s never happened this fast.

THIRTY-FIVE

TYSON

The moment she says my name, something halfway between a moan and a plea, I feel it—everywhere.

“Tyson…” she repeats again, her voice breaking with pleasure. I swear, the sound of my name coming from her lips hits me just as hard as finally getting to taste her like this.

“I know,” I murmur, my voice rough as my lips move against her.

She doesn’t need to say anything else. I know just what she means by the desperate way she says my name. She’s close to coming, and I fucking love it. I can feel it in the way her body reacts to me, the way she keeps bucking her hips, and the way her breaths are coming faster and faster—like she’s so close to being sent over the edge.

And I want to see it.

Feel it.

Taste it.

I want to know exactly what it’s like when she lets go.