Page 234 of Let Me In

He doesn’t tear my leggings off—he peels them. Slow. Purposeful. Watching my face the whole time, like he’s studying each reaction. Goosebumps rise along my skin as the fabric drags down my thighs. His fingers graze my calves, my knees, and finally hook under the waistband of my panties.

But he pauses.

He doesn’t speak. Just breathes hard through his nose, jaw clenched tight, his eyes locked on the damp cotton between my legs.

“Soaked,” he mutters. “Just from that? Just from me showing up?”

He slides them down. Doesn’t fold them. Doesn’t toss them aside.

He lifts them to his face and inhales.

My breath stutters.

“Fuck,” he says, tight and choked. “You’re going to ruin me.”

Then he grabs my thighs, spreading them wide. His gaze flicks up, and this time, it is a warning.

“Hold still.”

His shoulders settle between my thighs, broad and steady, and the mattress dips under his weight. He doesn’t touch me yet. Just breathes.

Like he’s bracing himself.

Like he’s about to indulge in something sacred.

His hands slide up the backs of my thighs—rough palms dragging slow and deliberate until they curl around my hips, anchoring me in place.

“Keep those legs open for me, baby,” he murmurs, voice thick. “Let Daddy see everything.”

I gasp, thighs twitching, but I obey.

He looks down at me—wet, open, already aching—and groans low in his chest.

“Fuck. That’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

Then his mouth is on me.

Hot. Hungry. Deep.

His tongue parts me like he owns the right, like this is his reward and he’s going to take it with no hesitation. He licks long and slow at first, groaning like he’s tasting something rare, something earned.

“You taste like you need me,” he rasps into me. “Like your little body’s been waiting for this all damn day.”

I cry out—half sob, half moan—as his lips seal over my clit and suck. Not gentle. Not testing. Just sure. Rhythmic. Relentless.

He devours like a man starved.

His grip tightens, fingers bruising against my thighs, pulling me closer as his tongue circles again, again—never losing pace. Never hesitating. Like he’s mapped me out in his mind already and now he’s just filling in the details.

“You give me this,” he pants, breaking just long enough to press a kiss to the crease of my thigh. “You open for me like this—God, baby, I’ll never stop taking care of you.”

Then he dives back in. Deeper. Tongue sliding down to tease my entrance before pushing inside, slow and deliberate. My hips jump, but he holds me down.

“Uh-uh,” he murmurs. “Let me have it. Let me feel how soft you are for me.”

My hands fist the sheets, whole body trembling.

He groans as he fucks me with his tongue, slow and deep, then shifts up—mouth latching back onto my clit with purpose. A finger—then two—press inside me, curling just right. His rhythm is devastating.

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