Page 88 of Speed Crush

Her fingers twist in my hair, desperate and clawing, her cries breaking into the air like she’s trying to hold back and failing miserably.

“You want to come again, don’t you?” I growl, licking a slow, torturous circle. “Let go for me, darling. Make a mess on my mouth.”

My hands slide up, greedy and sure, palms full of her heavy breasts. I roll her nipples between my fingers, and tug and pinch hard, hungry, just the way she begged for last time. Her back arches, a wild sound escaping her throat.

"You’re so sensitive. I love making you lose control.” I rasp, flicking my tongue faster over her clit now, relentless.

She’s writhing under my tongue, trying to hold back—but I can feel it. The way her thighs quiver. The way her hips jerk. She’s close.

“Don’t hold it,” I growl into her soaked heat. “I want all of it. Give it to me, baby.”

She shudders violently—and then she squirts, soaking my mouth with a gasping cry. Her thighs lock around my head, her entire body shaking as I ride it out with her, licking through the aftershocks like I can drink her down.

I love it.

The taste of her. The way she gives in. The way her body pulses for me, wild and uncontrollable.

I want it etched into her. I want her to feel it later—rememberit. Know it was me who took her apart like this. Who made her burn so deep she’ll never forget who she gave it to.

She’s trembling. Breathing hard. Her entire body twitching with aftershocks. And I don’t stop until I’ve wrung out every last wave of pleasure from her.

June's hands slides down weakly like she’s trying to grab hold of anything. I kiss the inside of her thigh once more, slow and possessive, and whisper, “That’s mine now.”

I brace myself over her, watching every flicker of emotion that crosses her face. Her chest is still rising fast, her body buzzing from release. I press a kiss to her collarbone, then her shoulder, then trail down her arm slowly.

Instead of taking her, I let her calm down. My hand glides over her belly, the curve of her hip, then back up to stroke between her breasts, gentle now. Her eyes flutter open, wide and seeking.

“I love you, Juniper Kennedy,” I murmur, my voice low and certain.

June doesn’t blink away this time. Doesn’t look scared.

She just reaches up, touches my cheek, and parts her lips like she wants to say something—wants to give it back to me. But she doesn’t have to.

I see the question in her eyes, the softness tangled with hesitation. So I hush her with a kiss to her forehead.

"Let’s just sleep," I whisper. "You’re safe here. With me."

The next morning, she stirs beside me, and my whole body responds instantly, like she's the center of everything, and I’ve been holding myself still just waiting for her to move.

I love her morning look. The way her eyes flutter open, dazed and still dream-heavy. It stuns me every time. I thought maybe it was just the setting in Italy—new, exciting, foreign. But now, here in my bed, it still feels like magic. Like no matter where we are, waking up beside her might always feel like this.

She purrs and stretches, and I harden at the sight—lazy and plush, the sleepy haze making her even more beautiful than she has any right to be.

“Morning,” I murmur, my voice hoarse from sleep—and maybe from everything else I’m still feeling in my chest.

She gazes up, eyes glittering, then narrows them a little. Like she’s not sure this is real.

“You’re here,” she whispers, like she’s the one waking up from a dream in my bed, still not convinced I’m real and this is actually happening.

I lean over, press a kiss to her shoulder. “Where else would I be? You're at my place.”

A beat. Then she says it—what’s clearly been buzzing in her chest since last night.

“What happens next?”

I lift onto my elbow, enjoying this moment of intimacy while tracing my fingers on her skin. “What do you mean?”

She looks away. “School starts again next week. And you…”

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