He lifted me off the floor like I weighed nothing, my legs wrapping around his waist as he carried me to the couch. The leather groaned beneath us as he lowered me onto the cushions, and I felt the cool hide against my overheated skin, a shock after the heat of the kitchen tile.

He took my left nipple between his lips, drawing it deep, and I gasped at the sudden, wet heat. His tongue circled the hard peak, slow and deliberate, while his calloused thumb worked the other, rolling it between his fingers until I arched into his hand.

"Brian," I breathed, my fingers threading through his hair. He didn't answer, just switched sides, giving my right breast the same intense attention, sucking hard enough to make my hips buck off the cushion.

He knew exactly what he was doing. He wasn't in a hurry. His mouth worked me in long, drugging pulls, each one sending a pulse of heat straight to my lips, and I felt myself getting slick all over again, my thighs pressing together.

"You're thinking too much," he murmured against my skin, his breath hot on my nipple. "Just feel."

I didn't have a choice. He kept at it, licking and sucking until I was writhing beneath him, my hands fisting in his hair, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps. He gave my breasts a final, lingering kiss before shifting lower, his lips trailing down my belly, his beard scraping my skin.

I felt his hands spread my thighs, and then he was looking at me, his eyes dark and hungry in the lamplight. "You're soaked," he said, almost reverently.

"That's your fault."

He grinned, and then he lowered his head, his tongue flat against my slit, and I cried out. He lapped at me slowly, savoring me, his tongue parting my folds and finding my clit with an accuracy that made my whole body jerk.

I felt myself opening for him, my hips tilting up to meet his mouth, and he groaned against me, the vibration sending a shockwave through my clit. He slid his arms under my thighs, hooking them over his shoulders, pulling me over until I was sitting on his face.

His tongue was relentless. He circled my clit, then flattened against it, then sucked it gently between his lips, and I was already close, the coil winding fast and tight. I tried to warn him, but my voice came out as a broken moan, and he just doubled down, his tongue dipping inside me before returning to my clit.

I came with a cry, my hips grinding against his face, my hands gripping the leather beneath me. He didn't stop. He kept licking, softer now, drawing it out until I was trembling, oversensitive, and then he started building me up again.

His tongue found me again, and I was lost. He worked me with a contractor's patience, finding the rhythm I needed before I knew I needed it, pulling back just before I peaked, letting me hover on the edge until I was begging.

"Please," I gasped, my fingers twisting in his hair. "Please, Brian, I need—"

He gave it to me. His tongue pressed flat against my clit, his fingers sliding inside me, curling against that spot that made my vision white, and I shattered. My second orgasm ripped through me, harder than the first, my body convulsing against his mouth as he drank me down.

I was still trembling when he started again. I wanted to tell him I couldn't, that it was too much, but his mouth was already on me, and the third one was building before I could catch my breath. It rose from somewhere deep, a wave that pulled me under, and when I came again, I screamed his name, my body arching off the couch, my pussy clenching around nothing as he lapped at me through it.

When I finally collapsed, boneless and shaking, he crawled up my body, his face slick with me, his cock hard and leaking against my thigh. I tasted myself on his lips when he kissed me, and I felt his smile.

I was still floating, my body humming with the aftershocks of three orgasms, when his hands slid under my ass and lifted me off the couch. I didn't have time to gasp before he had me pinned against the wall, and then he was between my thighs, his cock pressing against my slick folds.

"Not done," he said, his voice rough in my ear. "Not even close."

He pushed inside me in one slow, devastating thrust, and I cried out, my nails digging into his shoulders. I was so sensitive, so raw from what he'd just done to me, and the stretch of him filling me sent a fresh wave of heat crashing through my core.

He didn't move right away. He held himself there, buried to the hilt, his forehead pressed against mine, his breath ragged. I could feel him throbbing inside me, could feel every inch of him, and I clenched around him, desperate for more.

"Brian," I whimpered, my legs tightening around his waist. "Please—"

"I've got you."

And then he started to move. Slow at first, pulling almost all the way out before sinking back in, each thrust deliberate, measured. He was savoring it, drawing it out, and I could feel every ridge of his cock as it dragged against my walls.

I was already close again. I didn't understand it — I'd just come three times, my body should've been spent — but the way he was filling me, the way his eyes were locked on mine, dark and hungry, had me climbing toward that peak again.

"You feel that?" he asked, his voice strained. "You feel how tight you are around me?"

I nodded, unable to speak, my head falling back against the wall. He caught my mouth with his, kissing me hard, swallowing my moans as he picked up the pace.

The slap of his hips against my thighs filled the room, wet and obscene. He was driving into me now, harder and faster, the wall at my back the only thing keeping me upright. I could feel the orgasm building, coiling low in my belly, and I clung to him, my fingers twisting in his hair.

"I'm close," I gasped against his lips. "Brian, I'm going to—"

"Let go," he commanded. "Let go for me."

I shattered. My pussy clenched around him, pulsing in waves as I came, my body convulsing against the wall. He groaned, his grip on my thighs tightening, but he didn't stop. He kept thrusting through it, riding out my orgasm, pushing me higher until I was sobbing his name.

"Again," he said, and I thought I'd misheard him. "One more. I know you have it."

I wanted to tell him I couldn't, that it was too much, but his cock was still buried inside me, still moving, still hitting that spot that made my vision blur. And I felt it building again, impossibly, that familiar wave rising from somewhere I didn't know I had left.

He slowed down, teasing me, pulling almost all the way out before sinking back in with agonizing slowness. I whimpered, my hips grinding against him, trying to get more, but he held me still, his hand sliding up my spine to grip the back of my neck.

"Not yet," he murmured. "I want to feel you come around me first."

God, the way he said it. The way his voice dropped, rough and low, sent a shiver through me. I was trembling, hovering on the edge, and he knew it. He could feel it — the way I was clenching around him, the way my breath was catching in my throat.

"Look at me," he said, and I did. His eyes were dark, almost black in the dim light, and there was something raw in them, something that made my heart stutter. "Come for me, Tara."

That was all it took. My fourth orgasm ripped through me, harder than the last, my body arching off the wall as I screamed his name. He followed me over the edge, his hips slamming into me one last time as he came, his cock pulsing inside me, flooding me with heat.

We stayed like that for a long moment, tangled against the wall, our bodies slick with sweat, our breath ragged and mingling. I could feel him softening inside me, and I didn't want to move. I didn't want this to end.

He finally pulled out, lowering me to the floor, my legs shaking so badly I had to grip his shoulders to stay upright. He kissed me, slow and deep, and I tasted myself on his lips, mixed with something that was purely him.

"I'm not done with you yet," he said, his voice rough, his hand sliding down to cup my ass. "But I need a minute."

I looked at him, at the mess we'd made of each other, at the city lights still burning beyond the window, and I felt the ache between my thighs, the evidence of how thoroughly he'd taken me apart. And I knew, with a certainty that made my pulse quicken, that I wasn't done with him either.

"No," I said, my voice coming out steadier than I felt. "You don't get a minute."

His eyes widened, that flicker of surprise I loved, the one that said he'd forgotten who he was dealing with. I pushed against his chest, and he let me, stumbling back a step until his calves hit the couch and he dropped onto the cushions.

I didn't give him time to recover. I dropped to my knees on the carpet, the fibers rough against my skin, and wrapped my hand around his soft cock. He was still slick with my come, the evidence of what we'd done smeared across his skin, and I leaned in and took him in my mouth.

He tasted like us. Salty and warm, my own arousal mixed with the remnants of his release, and I moaned around him, letting him feel the vibration. His hand found my hair, threading through the curls, but he didn't push or guide. He just held on.

I worked him with my tongue, lapping at the softness, feeling him twitch against my lips. He wasn't hard yet, but I could feel him stirring, the heat of him growing in my mouth, and I took him deeper, my throat relaxing to accommodate him.

"Tara," he breathed, his voice strained. "Fuck."

I didn't stop. I sucked him with a fury, my cheeks hollowing, my hand working the base in tandem with my mouth. I wanted to feel him swell against my tongue, wanted to taste him go from soft to steel, wanted to prove that I could undo him as thoroughly as he'd undone me.

He grew in my mouth, inch by inch, and I felt a thrill of triumph. I pulled off just long enough to look at him, to see his head thrown back against the couch, his jaw tight, his eyes squeezed shut. Then I took him again, all the way, until my nose brushed the coarse hair at his base.

I felt his hips buck, a small, involuntary movement, and I pulled back, teasing the head with my tongue, circling the sensitive ridge. His grip in my hair tightened, and I knew he was close to losing it, close to letting me take control.

"You're going to fuck me again," I said, my voice husky, my lips brushing the length of him as I spoke. "Aren't you?"

"Yes," he groaned. "Fuck, yes."

I took him in my mouth again, sucking hard, and I felt him harden completely, felt the pulse of him against my tongue. I was dripping, my own arousal running down my thighs, and I could feel the mess we'd made, our combined release slick between my legs, pooling on the carpet beneath me.

He pulled me off him, his hands rough on my shoulders, and I let him. He lifted me, spinning me around, and I gasped as he bent me over the arm of the couch, my hands bracing against the leather.

"You want to tease me?" he said, his voice low and dangerous in my ear. "Let's see how you like it."

He didn't enter me. Not yet. He knelt behind me, his hands spreading my ass, and I felt his tongue drag through my folds, lapping up the mess we'd made. He groaned against me, drinking us down, and I whimpered, my knees weakening.

"You're so fucking wet," he murmured, his mouth hot against my skin. "So full of me."

I felt his fingers slide inside me, scooping out our combined release, and I heard it drip onto the floor. The sound was obscene, wet and intimate, and I clenched around his fingers, desperate for more.

"Please," I begged, my voice breaking. "Brian, please."

"Not yet," he said, echoing my own words back at me. "You wanted to play. Now we play."

His hands found my hips, rough and commanding, and before I could brace myself he was lifting me, turning me in the air like I weighed nothing. The room spun, the city lights blurring past, as he spun me upside down, bringing my vagina inches from his face.

I felt his breath on me first—hot, ragged, hungry—and then his mouth was on my clit, and I cried out, my fingers curling. His cock bobbed against my lips, thick and heavy, and I opened my mouth and took him, tasting the salt of our combined release still clinging to his skin.

He groaned against me, the vibration shooting through my core, and I moaned around him in answer. My thighs trembled on either side of his head, and I felt his tongue flatten against my slit, slow and deliberate, while his hands gripped my ass, spreading me wide for him.

I sucked him deep, my throat relaxing, my nose brushing the coarse hair at his base. He tasted like us—like the night we'd already had, like the mess we'd made of each other—and I wanted more. I wanted to drink him down, wanted to feel him pulse against my tongue, wanted to hear him groan my name into me as he worked me over with his tongue.

His tongue circled my clit, teasing, pulling back just before I peaked, and I whimpered around his cock, my hips bucking against his mouth. He laughed, a low, rough sound that I felt in my bones, and then he sucked my clit between his lips, hard, and I nearly came undone right there.

I pulled off him, gasping, my forehead pressing against his stomach. "Brian," I breathed. "Please—"

He answered by sliding two fingers inside me, curling against that spot that made my vision white, and I cried out, my mouth finding his cock again, taking him all the way down. I sucked him with a fury, my cheeks hollowing, my hand working the base, while his fingers fucked me slow and deep, his thumb circling my clit.

The pressure built, coiling low in my belly, and I felt him swell against my tongue, felt his hips buck, heard his groan muffled against my flesh. He was close, I could feel it, and the knowledge sent a fresh wave of heat through me.

"Come for me," he said, his voice rough and strained against my thigh. "Come on my tongue, Tara."

I shattered. My pussy clenched around his fingers, my body convulsing against his mouth, and I screamed around his cock, my throat vibrating with the force of my release. He lapped at me through it, drinking me down, his fingers still curling inside me, drawing it out until I was sobbing, trembling, my knees giving out.

He caught me, his arms wrapping around my waist, and I felt him shift beneath me, lowering us both to the couch. I was still shaking, still floating, my body humming with the aftershocks, and I felt his cock pressing against my cheek, still hard.

I turned my head and took him in my mouth again, slow and lazy, savoring the taste of him. He groaned, his hand threading through my hair, and I felt him twitch against my tongue.

"You're going to make me come," he said, his voice strained. "Is that what you want?"

I hummed in answer, my throat relaxing, taking him deeper. I wanted it. I wanted to taste him, wanted to feel him come undone because of me, wanted to swallow every drop of his release.

But he pulled me off him, his hands gentle but firm, and I looked up at him, my lips slick, my eyes questioning.

"Not yet," he said, his voice low and dark. "I want to be inside you when I come."

He flipped me over, my back hitting the cushions, and then he was between my thighs, his cock pressing against my slick folds. I was still sensitive from my multiple orgasms, still trembling, and I felt the stretch of him as he pushed inside me, slow and deliberate, burying himself to the hilt.

I gasped, my nails digging into his shoulders. "Brian—"

"I've got you," he said, his forehead pressing against mine. "I've always got you."

He started to move, slow and deep, and I felt myself climbing again, impossibly, my body responding to him like it had a mind of its own. The city lights burned beyond the window, watching us, and I felt the ache between my thighs, the evidence of how thoroughly he'd taken me apart.

"Again," he said, his voice rough in my ear. "One more time, Tara. I know you have it."

And I did. I felt it building, that familiar wave rising from somewhere I didn't know I had left, and I let go, my body clenching around him as I came, my body arching off the couch. He followed me over the edge, his hips slamming into me one last time as he came, his cock pulsing inside me, flooding me with heat.

We stayed like that, tangled and spent, our breath ragged and mingling. And I knew, with a certainty that made my heart stutter, that this wasn't over. Not even close.