“Every guy I’ve ever been with.” It comes out like a laugh, a choked sob, a confession, a charge. “Or sometimes I could just tell.”

“Then you’ve been with the wrong men, Carrie. Let me show you how much I want to do this. Let me show you how much I’ve fantasized about tasting you for all these years. Let me show you how it feels to have a man who wants more than anything to give you what you need.” He shakes his head, eyes stormy. “And when I’m done, let me do it again.”

Every word he speaks is a permission slip submitted to the part of me that resists, each sultry, earnest pleasure vow a code that opens the door inside me.

I let go, closing my eyes, letting out a long sigh that I hope he understands.

His tongue tells me in no uncertain terms that he does.

It’s not that no one has ever done this to me, but the way Ryan does it makes my whole body yield to his ministrations, interconnected and entwined. Sex is something I do to connect on a deeper emotional level with men I love. Intimacy forges bonds. It has a purpose. It’s pleasurable and nice, the cuddling afterward is a welcome retreat into affection that feels settled. Safe.

Anchored.

As Ryan slips one, then two fingers inside me and I clench around him, his touch rippling through me as if he’s pulling me in, daring me to show him all of me, every sound, every nuance, every everything, his tongue isn’t just performing a task or a ritual.

He’s enjoying this.

He’s truly enjoying me.

I’ve never been so naked and vulnerable and alive and excited with someone who urged me to go further, to give way, to be wet and wild. Someone who takes his time, enjoying himself and in no hurry. I’m squirming as an orgasm of a new sort starts to take over, a soaring, swollen sense inside me that fills every muscle, making me hold my breath then gasp for air. It’s too much. I move so his tongue stops touching the spot that makes me feel like every blood vessel in my face is about to explode into rosy fireworks.

“Is this good?” he murmurs. “Tell me what you want, Carrie.”

“Is this good?” I moan, my clit lit up like a Fourth of July sparkler, all my nerves jangling. I sit up and he moves to me, like grey smoke in human form, so languid and graceful. Our kiss fills my mouth with my own juices and I giggle.

“So that’s what I taste like,” I blurt out.

Ryan’s shoulders drop, his face a blend of anger and understanding. “Oh, Carrie.” His grin is that of a predator as he backs away, finding his place between my legs again. “We’re not even close to finished.”

This time, I put both of my hands on his head, loving the lush softness of his hair, my hands guiding him to rhythms I didn’t know I had in me. Some part of me detonates, sending shockwaves of heat to the far corners and curves of my body, my core tightening at the same time I hold my breath and climb, climb, climb to to the top of the world.

I try to draw back, curl in, because the feeling is too intense, too wet, too dry, too cold, too hot, too luscious, too bold, too —

“Oh, oh, oh,” I cry out, grabbing his hair, grabbing the sheets, grabbing thin air as if I am about to drift into space. He flattens one palm against my hip, making me feel, making me endure, making me turn every part of me into every part of him and I can’t move, can’t freeze, can’t stop panting, can’t stop –

I become everything.

The world pulses with me as Ryan follows my moving body, my fingers digging into his neck, his mouth smiling against me, tongue working that mystical chaos that splits me open and swallows me whole. I scream, a sound in the back of my throat that is all my muscles from the inside out trying to cry out his name.

Blood rushes to my head, a pulse in line with his strokes, and I go limp, little shocks nipping at my clit, my walls, my nipples, my thighs. I release layers inside me I didn’t know were tense, and just when I think I’m done, Ryan looks at me, moving halfway up my body, and whispers, “You’re so real, C-Shel. So beautiful. ”

“Come here,” I whisper, reaching for his chest, running my hands all over his rugged body. He’s thick and huge, breathing hard and so big. Big chest, big arms, big thighs, big erection.

I want him inside me. I want to give him the pleasure he just gave me.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” I murmur, amazed by his body, touching it so intimately after two years of looking at it mostly naked five days a week. But we’re alone now. What a difference. He’s tanned and sculpted, skin going tight every time my hand sweeps across it. His body responds to me as I sit up on my knees and just take him in.

While I touch him, Ryan looks at me until he comes in for a kiss, making it long and full. Vibrant and restrained, he’s so present. The ocean beats against the shore outside, loud and then lulling, and all I hear is the water and our heartbeats. I lick his collarbone, leaving a small love bite, my hand moving down the corded terrain of his eight pack, finding thicker hair, then his shaft, ready for me.

The groan he makes when I wrap my hand around him is so gratifying. I’m in a place where the world still spins with frantic joy, so I bend down to taste him, finding warm silk. His sharp whistling inhale is punctuated by an exhale of my name. When Ryan says it that way, I feel emboldened. Brazen. Empowered.

Ready to give. Wanting to give.

He’s big. So big. That’s not some cliché, and while I can count on one hand the number of guys I’ve slept with and still have room to flash the OK sign, even I know that this is, well...

Special.

He’s so open with his body that I relax and pull him in, deep, my tongue flattening, spare hand unsure. Abruptly, he stops me, and I’m on my back, Ryan over me, cock hard and wet.

“If you keep that up, I’ll come.”

I give him a sly smile. “Isn’t that the point?”

The look on his face is so endearing, so brutally honest and stripped of facade that my heart expands, filling my chest until I feel it in the marrow of my bones. He cups my breasts, touching them with great care, then kisses me gently.

“The point is to do this right. I want to make love. Not just get off, Carrie. It’s...” He frowns slightly, brows coming together, and I see a vein in his forehead pop out. He’s restraining himself, fists tight, and I’m aware of more between us than we had even seconds ago.

I sit up and kiss him, widening my legs, and as he lowers me gently onto the bed he tears something in his right hand and reaches between us.