Page 125 of Josephine and Clay

“Wait,” I gasp, catching him before he can push through it.

For one awkward second, we’re tangled together, breathless and half laughing while he tries to maneuver us toward the bed without eating carpet.

“Romantic,” he mutters.

“Extremely.”

He peels my dress off, quick, a little rough, then strokes my ruined lace panties down my thighs, careful, almost tender, as if he’s reading my mind and wants to prove that being greedy with me doesn’t mean careless.

He curves his body over mine, hot skin to my back, breath gusting behind my ear. My knees sink into the mattress. My hands grip the duvet.

He grinds his cock between my legs, and I yelp, from the shock of longing, the friction, the filthy yes of it.

“You want it like this?” he whispers, guttural, a cave echo full of echoing promises and threats. “Tell me how you want it.”

I shouldn’t say. I shouldn’t even know. But the words are lined up, ravenous, behind my teeth.

“I want your tongue, Clay.”

He fists a handful of my hair and flips me, my back flat on the bed, legs dangling off the side. He kneels on the carpet, eye level with my pussy.

He spreads me open with two gentle thumbs, like he’s opening a rare book and afraid the pages will crumble. His eyes flick up, locking with mine, and then his mouth is pressed against me, and I dissolve.

The first lick is slow, a tasting, the deliberate drag of his tongue from perineum to clit, like he wants to map every nerve ending.

His mouth is burning hot. Every touch is greedy and careful, the way you break apart a fortune cookie so you don’t lose a single crumb.

He grinds his mouth into me. There’s nothing careful about it now. He face fucks me with obsessive intensity.

When his teeth graze my clit, I see stars; the white hot spike of it shoots up my spine, nerves fusing pleasure and pain until I can’t breathe, can’t even make a sound.

I fist both hands in his hair, shoving him closer, anchoring myself to the world by that single point of contact.

This is the world ending; this is us lighting ourselves from within and letting the fire eat all the parts we aren’t supposed to want. I’m gasping, legs shaking so hard you’d think I’d never stood before.

His face is slick with me, and he’s smiling, a crooked, animal smile, like he’s proud of how far gone I am.

He shoves two fingers inside, ruthless, and my body opens for him, so needy it makes me sick with the purity of it. I grab his wrist and fuck myself on his hand, desperate, a beast rutting onto the dirt, and the juddering spasms take me so hard I let out a sound between a sob and a scream.

He keeps going. Just finger fucks me while his face is buried in my pussy. Like a machine built for nothing but this. Like he could die here and it’d be worth it.

He doesn't let up. His focus never wavers, his attention fixed entirely on me as he keeps me balanced on the edge, refusing to rush, refusing to give me a second to catch my breath. Every time I think the intensity has peaked, he drags me higher, pulling another helpless sound from my throat.

It feels relentless, like this is the only thing that exists for him. Like the rest of the world has fallen away, leaving nothing but the space between us and the desperate need to keep me coming apart.

The pressure keeps building until I can barely think through it. My muscles tighten, my pulse pounds in my ears, and every nerve in my body strains toward the inevitable.

When it finally hits, it tears through me. I come again, hard enough to steal the air from my lungs, stars bursting behind my eyelids as the sensation rolls through my entire body. My throat is raw. I must have howled, but it feels like I blacked out. I’m so loose and spent that I sag back, limbs all jelly, chest shuddering, spit pooling on my tongue.

He wipes his mouth, dazed, looking bewildered and proud and a little bit terrified.

“Holy shit,” he whispers. “You’re fucking incredible.”

I laugh, wild and giddy. “Now get inside me.”

I drag him on top of me by the shoulders, like I’m hauling myself out of a pit.

He stumbles, pants halfway down, cock leaking onto the pale mound of my stomach.