Page 156 of They Are Mine

And still, he waits.

His mouth hovers. His fingers trail.

I can’t see.

I can only feel.

The slow press of his palm down my stomach. The brush of his lips across my hip.

The absence where I want him most.

I’m burning.

I yank at the restraints, my body taut, trembling.

“Please,” I gasp. “Please, sir.”

Another chuckle.

Then…

Heat. Wet. Tongue.

Oh, fuck.

The moment his tongue flicks against me, my body jolts. My thighs quiver. My wrists pull against the restraints, a desperate, instinctual reaction to the overwhelming heat of his mouth.

He hums.

Like he’s savoring me. Like he’s getting his first taste of something addictive.

I whimper, hips lifting, trying to press closer.

But he’s strong. Too strong.

His hands slide beneath my thighs, locking me in place.

Then, he devours me.

Slow. Purposeful. Ruthless.

Every lap of his tongue is precise. Measured. Torturous.

Soft flicks against my clit, followed by deep, slow strokes, spreading me open, teasing, taunting.

My back arches. My breath catches.

The blindfold makes everything sharper. Every sensation stronger. Every stroke deeper.

His mouth. His tongue. His fucking control.

“Sir,” I whimper. I don’t even know what I’m begging for.

But he does.

His grip tightens. His mouth seals over my clit, tongue swirling, sucking, demanding.

I break.

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