Page 25 of The Professor's Wife

He slid my underwear down slowly, savoring every inch. Every second he prolonged his intention, the needier I became.

It was painful.

A deprivation I hadn’t known existed minutes ago. I was tempted to grip his hair and grind against his face. To have him taste me and send me over the edge.

I shook, holding myself back.

Entranced, I watched as his hands moved slowly up my legs and he kissed the insides of my thighs. This wasn’t a quick romp between the sheets. Not when he was relishing me like this. Taking all the time in the world.

His breaths came hard and fast, and then his face was where I needed him. I felt his fingers there, brushing along me. I held my breath as he spread me open and slid his tongue through me in one long stroke.

Pleasure burst through my body.

I shook, gasping as he did it again, taking his sweet time. Tasting me. Savoring me.

“Feel good, Daze?” he asked roughly.

The best.

The fucking best.

I could only nod, and even that felt like a burden.

I lay there as his mouth returned to me. His hands gripped my hips, holding me still while he pleasured me.

I spiraled, unable to contain the sounds escaping my mouth as he learned me quickly. My flesh was sensitive, the pleasure burning and hurting in the most exquisite way.

I had forgotten what this felt like.

Forgotten the buildup. The pleasure that centered my entire world on the man holding me down, tasting me hungrily.

I exploded.

Out of nowhere, my body went rigid and then shook as wave after wave ripped through me. I was loud. Tristan’s name broke apart between my moans.

Then there was stillness.

My ears buzzed. My eyes remained shut. My body lay spent while Tristan moved away from me.

I made a small sound at the loss of him. I still wanted his touch. Wanted more. But for several moments, I was limbless.

When I finally opened my eyes, Tristan was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at me with eyes that weren’t merely swimming with desire.

There was something else there.

Something heavy and intense.

He swallowed thickly. “You’re beautiful, Daisy.”

My cheeks burned.

I didn’t feel any sense of propriety after that. His mouth had been on the most private part of me. Whatever timidness remained had dissipated because I was still riding high, still lost in whatever this was between us.

Drunk on the feeling, I leaned forward, gripped his shirt, and pulled him toward me.

He let out a surprised chuckle and climbed over me.

I didn’t wait for another word or another look. I gripped his hair and pulled him down, kissing his impossibly soft lips. When his body curved around mine, something in me loosened, as though my ribs finally remembered how to breathe.