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Her breath catches.

Then she nods.

Small.

Desperate.

Fuck.

I tear the oversized shirt over her head and toss it aside. She isn’t wearing a bra, and the sight of her nearly destroys what little control I have left.

I lean down and pull one nipple into my mouth, sucking hard enough to make her arch against me. My teeth graze the sensitive peak, and a whimper slips from her before she bites it back.

Good girl.

I reward her by pinching the other nipple, rolling it slowly between my fingers until her thighs squeeze together on the counter, searching for friction.

“Open.”

I shove her knees apart.

Her shorts are thin and fucking useless. I drag them down her legs and throw them somewhere behind me.

She’s bare.

Soaked.

The scent of her fills the kitchen, and a groan tears from my throat before I can stop it.

I drop between her thighs.

My mouth finds the soft skin there first, teeth sinking into her inner thigh hard enough to leave a mark.

“Please,” she whispers.

I look up.

Her hands grip the edge of the counter, knuckles white. Her head has fallen back, exposing the long line of her throat.

I wrap my hand around it.

Not enough to hurt her.

Enough for her to feel me there.

Her eyes find mine.

“What did I say about noise?”

She swallows against my palm. “No sound.”

“Then be good.”

I drag my tongue through her.

One long, filthy stroke.

Her entire body shudders.