He rose from the couch without a word, his cock still thick and heavy between his legs, and I watched the muscles of his back shift as he walked toward the bedroom. The city lights caught the sweat on his shoulders, and I felt the ache between my thighs pulse in time with my heartbeat. He disappeared through the doorway, and I heard the soft click of a latch, the slide of leather.

When he came back, the case was in his hands — dark leather, worn at the corners, a brass clasp that caught the dim light. He set it on the cushion between us, and the weight of it made the leather dip. His fingers worked the clasp with that contractor's patience, unhurried, and I watched the way his knuckles moved, the way his jaw was set.

The lid opened. Inside, nestled in black velvet, lay the vibrator — sleek and silicone, a curve that promised exactly where it would land — and beside it, the plug, smaller, smoother, an invitation I hadn't fully considered.

His eyes found mine. "Which one do you want first?"

I didn't answer with words. I reached for the vibrator, my fingers closing around the cool curve, and I felt the weight of it settle into my palm. His jaw tightened as I brought it to my mouth, holding his gaze, and I let my tongue trace the tip — slow, deliberate, the silicone tasting of nothing but anticipation.

"This one," I said, and I spread my legs for him, showing him exactly where I wanted it.

His breath came out rough, a sound that wasn't quite a laugh and wasn't quite a groan. He leaned forward, his hand closing over mine on the vibrator, and the heat of his palm was a shock against my skin.

My fingers found the switch. The hum started low, a vibration that trembled through my hand and into the bones of my wrist. I held his gaze as I lowered it to my clit, and the first contact sent a jolt through my whole body — my hips bucked, my breath caught, and I heard his sharp inhale.

"That's it," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Show me."

I circled the vibrator against myself, the pressure just right, and I felt the slick heat of my own arousal spreading. His eyes tracked every movement — the way my thighs fell open wider, the way my back arched against the leather, the way my mouth fell open on a sound I couldn't hold back.

"You like watching," I managed, my voice thin.

"I like watching you." He shifted closer, his hand finding my knee, his thumb tracing a slow circle on the inside of my thigh. "I like knowing I put that look on your face."

The vibration built, and I felt the edge approaching — that familiar tightening, the heat coiling low in my belly. He saw it. Of course he saw it.

His hand closed over mine, and the vibrator stilled against my clit. I whined — actually whined — and he smiled, that slow, dangerous smile that made my thighs clench around nothing.

"Lie back," he said, and it wasn't a request.

I lay back against the leather, my hair spilling around me, my chest rising and falling. He didn't move for a long moment, just looked at me — all of me, from my flushed cheeks to my parted knees — and I felt seen in a way that made my skin prickle with heat. Then he lowered the vibrator to my clit and pressed the button. The hum filled the room.

His mouth found my ankle first. Lips against my delicate skin, his tongue tracing the bone, while the vibrator circled slow and merciless. I gasped. He kissed up my calf, teeth grazing the muscle, and I felt the vibration in my bones, in my teeth, in the base of my skull.

"Brian—"

"Shh." His lips moved to the inside of my knee, and he bit down gently, just enough to make me arch. The vibrator never stopped its circle, and I felt the first wave building, slow and deep, like something waking up.

He kissed higher. The soft skin of my inner thigh, the crease where my leg met my hip, and I felt his breath hot against me before his mouth moved away, teasing, denying. The vibrator pressed harder, and I cried out.

"Not yet," he murmured against my hip. "Not until I've tasted every inch."

His lips trailed across my belly, dipping into my navel, and I felt the vibration spike as he turned it up a notch. My hips bucked against his hand, and he held me down with a palm flat on my stomach, his thumb pressing into the muscle there.

Then his mouth found my breast, and I forgot how to breathe.

He took my nipple between his lips and sucked hard, his tongue rough against the sensitive peak, and the vibrator kept going, kept pushing, kept building. I felt the orgasm cresting, that sharp edge of heat, and he bit down — just enough to sting, just enough to send me over.

I came with his name on my lips, my back bowing off the couch, my hands fisting in his hair. He didn't stop. He kept sucking, kept the vibrator pressed against me through every wave, drawing it out until I was shaking, until I was sobbing with it, until I thought I might die from it.

He moved to the other breast, and I felt the vibrator slow — a reprieve, a cruel kindness. His tongue circled my nipple, soft and wet, and I felt the aftershocks still rippling through me, my pussy clenching around nothing, hungry for more.

His mouth worked my breast while his hand moved the vibrator in tighter circles, and I felt the second orgasm building faster than the first, my body already primed, already desperate. He bit down again, harder this time, and I screamed — a raw, broken sound that I didn't recognize — and came again, my thighs clamping around his hand, my whole body convulsing.

He didn't let up. He turned the vibrator up higher, and I felt the third wave crashing before the second had even finished, my body caught in a current I couldn't control. He kissed up my throat, his mouth hot and hungry, and I felt his teeth graze my jaw.

"That's it," he said, his voice rough. "Let go. Let me feel it."

My hands found his shoulders, nails raking down his back, and I pulled him down to me, kissing him hard, tasting myself on his lips. The vibrator pressed against me, relentless, and I felt another orgasm building, coiling, inevitable.

He broke the kiss, his forehead against mine, his brown eyes burning into me. "Come for me, Tara."

And I did. I came apart beneath him, my whole body arching, my mouth open on a sound that was half scream, half prayer. He held the vibrator against me through every wave, watching me, drinking me in, until I collapsed against the leather, trembling, spent, utterly wrecked.

He turned the vibrator off and set it aside, then gathered me into his arms, his lips pressing soft kisses to my temple, my cheek, the corner of my mouth. I felt his cock hard against my thigh, and I knew — with bone-deep certainty — that we weren't done. Not even close.