Page 141 of Collide
“You’re a young, beautiful woman, Elena. You’re allowed to want it,” he says, brushing a kiss against my neck. “To crave it.” His mouth moves lower, every press gentle, every shift precise—each one a tremor down my spine.
“To desire it.”
His fingers slip under the edge of my panties, slow and sure, and he drags them down my thighs. My legs lift instinctively, welcoming him, aching for him.
Wetness gathers between my thighs—thick, heavy, undeniable.
“Are you giving me permission to be horny?” I ask, my voice ragged, shaky with anticipation.
“Absolutely,” he murmurs, his voice dark and delicious. “Consider it sage advice.”
He parts my thighs and nestles himself between them, his breath ghosting over my skin. Then I feel the wicked stroke of his tongue along the inside of my thigh.
My hips jerk. I gasp.
“You should always listen to your elders,” I manage between moans, the world tilting slightly around me.
Then his mouth is on me.
Soft, reverent, maddeningly slow.
His tongue moves with purpose, circling, teasing, tasting. He finds the exact spot and stays there, building pressure, rhythm, heat. My back arches off the bed, a broken sound leaving my lips.
He groans against me, tongue dragging deeper.
Then, without warning, he slips a finger inside me.
I cry out—sharp and breathy—as my body clenches tight around him.
He doesn’t stop. His mouth keeps working me, lips and tongue in sync with the slow thrust of his finger. Then two.
I gasp, my body stretching around the fullness, the ache building fast and desperate.
“You’re so tight,” he growls into me. “Your pussy’s begging to be filled.”
The words punch straight through me. My thighs tremble.
But then he slows. Still buried in me, his voice softer now, curling like smoke.
“But not tonight, Elena,” he murmurs, pressing a final kiss to the inside of my thigh. “I want to savor every moment. Take my time with you before I lose myself inside you.”
My body turns to flame.
His tongue returns to my clit, its rhythm, steady and focused, every stroke coaxing me higher. His hands grip my thighs gently, holding me open, holding me together as I squirm under him. I can’t think, can’t breathe. All I know ishim—his mouth, his warmth, the delicious tension tightening with every flick of his tongue.
He growls, and it vibrates through me.
My hands clutch the sheets, my mouth slack as moans rip out of me.
And then it crashes through me—wave after relentless wave. I shudder around his mouth, thighs locking tight, a broken cry escaping as I come, sharp and overwhelming. Every nerve alive, electric.
“Alex…Fuck!” I scream and squeal in equal measure.
He holds me through it. His tongue and lips keep moving as if he’s determined to catch every last quiver.
I twitch with every brush of his tongue, too sensitive, too raw, but he doesn’t stop until I’m gasping, breath catching in my throat, chest heaving with the aftershocks.
And in that moment, everything and everyone else disappears.
