Her lips parted and the first touch of his skin was an electric shock of reality—salty, musky, utterly male. He was hot and heavy on her tongue, the silken skin of his foreskin sliding back as she took him deeper. A groan vibrated from his chest into her hands on his thighs, the sound of a man coming undone. Her world shrank to the rhythm of his pulse against her palate, the way his fingers trembled in her hair, the slick proof of his desire that she now owned.

She worked slowly, learning him. The taste of him was clean sweat and something darker, primal. Her tongue traced the thick vein on the underside, felt the way his entire body tightened when she swirled over the head. His control was in tatters; every shallow thrust of his hips was a plea, every choked breath a prayer. “Lily,” he gasped, the word fraying at the edges. She looked up, her eyes meeting his over the hard line of his stomach. She didn’t stop. She took him deeper, until her nose pressed into the coarse hair at his base, and she felt him hit the back of her throat.

Ross’s head fell back against the chair, a raw, guttural sound tearing from him. His hands, those broad, scarred builder’s hands, cradled her head not to guide her, but to hold on. As if she were the only solid thing in a collapsing world. She set a rhythm, steady and deep, her own arousal a slick, aching heat between her legs that she pressed against the cool hardwood floor. The wet sounds filled the quiet room, obscene and perfect. Thor whined again from the couch, shifting restlessly, his nails clicking on the floor as he paced behind her.

She pulled back, her lips glistening, and stroked him with her hand. He was leaking freely now, the precum beading at the tip. She swiped it with her thumb, brought it to her own mouth, and tasted it. His eyes, dark and desperate, tracked the movement. “You taste like mine,” she whispered, her voice husky. It wasn’t a question. It was a claim.

Ross’s chest heaved. He looked wrecked, beautiful in his surrender. His gaze dropped from her eyes to her mouth, then lower, to where her thin tank top had slipped off one shoulder. “Come here,” he said, his voice a rough scrape of sound. It wasn’t a command from the man in charge. It was a request from the one who was lost. He didn’t pull her up. He waited, his cock throbbing in the cool air, his entire being hinging on her next move.