Page 87 of Kentrell

Watched the way his eyes flicked down, taking in every inch of me like I was something worth worshiping. His gaze was deep and dark, but it didn’t devour—itlingered.Moved with intention. With care.

He stood upright, and without looking away, began to undress.

The gray Louis Vuitton scarf slid from his shoulders first, falling silently to the floor.

Then his coat—cashmere and heavy—followed.

He tugged his long-sleeved shirt over his head, revealing the hard lines of his chest, the stretch of ink crawling down his arms. His undershirt came next, slow and fluid, baring more of the man I’d only gotten glimpses of before now.

He was beautiful.

Not just in that carved, masculine way—but in the way he moved. Controlled. Careful. Like he didn’t want to spook me. Like I mattered.

And when he knelt back onto the couch between my thighs, lowering his body down to meet mine, all I could feel washeat.

The warmth of his skin against mine.

The promise in his touch.

The quiet storm building between us.

As Kentrell eased lower between my thighs, I felt it—that sudden wave of nerves crashing over my want.

My breath hitched.

I wanted this. I’d initiated it. But now that it was really happening, I could feel myself retreating into the safety of not knowing. The newness of it all. The fact that Ilikedhim so much. It was making me self-conscious about everything—my body, my breath, the way my thighs trembled without permission.

“You scared?” His voice was deep and penetrating, and I felt it in the pit of my stomach.

I nodded, biting my lip.

I should’ve been brave enough to carry this all the way through. I wanted to be. I didn’t want to pull away or overthink it.

I wantedhim.

“I ain’t gon’ fuck you,” he said quietly, and my face curled into confusion.

Before I could ask, he chuckled low, voice dipped in heat and mischief. “But I’ma eat you though.”

Before my mind could evenprocesswhat he meant, his arms slid under the back of my thighs and he pulled me forward—firm, sure, head first into uncharted territory.

No man had ever ventured there. Other than me and my gynecologist, this was sacred ground.

“Oooh—” I gasped, my stomach sucking in the moment his tongue flicked across my clit, warm and wet and devastating.

My body twisted instantly, knees lifting, pressing against his shoulders as his mouth worked magic I didn’t know was possible. When I bucked, overwhelmed, I tried to push him away.

He grabbed my hands.

Pinned them to the sides of my thighs.

I wastrappedin pleasure.

And then—hespreadme.

Used his fingers to part me open with deliberate precision, giving his tongue full access to my most sensitive place.

That slow, focusedsuck?—

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