Page 52 of Siren

I stepped toward her. “I’m thinking about how you looked feeding it to me.”

That smile curved her lips, but didn’t reach her eyes—not all the way. There was something quieter behind them now. Want, yes. But something deeper too.

Readiness.

She was ready for whatever this was going to be. And so was I.

I reached for her waist, slid my hands down over her hips.

She tilted her head. “You sure about this?”

I’d show her my ready. I kissed her—slow and deep. One hand at the back of her neck, the other gripping her hip like I’d been waiting all week. And I had. Even when we tried to be good. Even when we stayed on task in the studio. Even when her voice made my spine tingle and I looked away so I wouldn’t lose control.

Now there was nothing in the way.

I backed her up toward the couch.

She pulled me with her, fingers curled into my hoodie, tongue sliding against mine like she needed more. I kissed her until she moaned, then pulled back just enough to look at her.

“I wanna see you,” I said.

She nodded. “Then take me out of these clothes.”

I did. Piece by piece. Slow and reverent.

Her tank top. Her jeans. The softest cotton underwear I’d ever touched.

She didn’t look away once.

And when I dropped to my knees and kissed her thighs, she reached for my face and said my name like it meant something.

Because it did.

I lifted her onto the couch and spread her open, kissing her there, again and again. Letting my tongue say what I hadn’t yet:I want you. Only you.

She came trembling under my mouth, hips jerking, hands in my locs, back arched like she couldn’t hold it all.

I could’ve stayed there, tasting her forever.

But she pulled me up with a breathless, “Please.”

I undressed, slow. Let her see me, bare and real and already hard for her. She watched me like she wanted to remember it all.

And when I slid into her—slow, deep,full—we both moaned like it had never been this good before. Because it hadn’t. Not like this.

We moved slow. Then faster. Then slow again.

She gripped me tight with her legs and moaned in my ear, her nails digging into my back.

“You feel so good,” she whispered.

I kissed her neck. Her shoulder. Her mouth.

“Say it again.”

She did. Again and again.

And when I came, it was with her name on my lips, the taste of her still thick on my tongue, and the knowledge that whatever we were doing—it wasn’t casual anymore.

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