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Moonlight filters in through the open window across the room. It’s dark, but she sees the desire in his sleep-laden eyes. Feels it in his cock, pressed against her hip. Her own arousal spreads like wildfire and she urges him between her thighs. 

He spends time teasing her nipples with his tongue; trails the tip of it over and around each dark, rosy peak until they are taut pebbles that he can take between his teeth. She gasps at the bite, at the sting of it, and pushes herself further into his mouth. He greedily takes her in, leaving marks for them to admire when they’re in the shower and remember later when they’re standing across from one another in a crowded room. 

It makes him impossibly hard, marking her like this. 

He smooths his palm across her belly, knows she’s wet before he even touches her. Coats his fingers in her and brings them to his mouth; addicted to the heady tang of her, sweet and a little bitter, and oh God, he pleads silently, let this be the last thing I ever taste.

She pulls him up to her, captures his lips hungrily and doesn’t pull away until they’re breathless and wanting. 

The head of his cock glides through her arousal and he slides into her slowly, savoring. They both sigh when she’s finally full of him, hips pressed together until there’s no space between. He leans down to kiss her softly and she draws one knee up to her chest, changing the angle just enough to make her inhale sharply, and he begins to move. 

Their bodies writhe together, the sheets bunched at their hips and tangled around their legs. His thrusts are deep; slow and languid, but rhythmic. She wants to feel all of him; tries to pull him closer with the arm she has around his waist, but he drags it away. Pins it heavily to the mattress next to her head and holds it there with his fingers wrapped around her wrist. 

This sudden wordless assertion of dominance sends a heated flush through her, prickling at her skin. He feels it, feels her fluttering lightly around him, drawing him in. His tongue dips into the hollow of her throat, skims up the column of her neck, soothes across her jaw. 

El,” she breathes, aching for release.

“You’re right there,” he encourages gently. “I can feel you.” And then his lips are on hers and they drink each other in with such desperation, such need, and she’s so close.

He reaches between them again to settle his fingertips on either side of her clit; buries himself immeasurably with each unhurried stroke. “Let go,” he whispers, his fingers slipping against her until she’s canting her hips and keening beneath him. 

Olivia comes apart; arching into him, clenching around him, shuddering. Fists her hands into the sheets and whimpers quietly as she spirals through the peak of her orgasm. 

Liv,” he whispers reverently, thrusting harder, deeper. He craves her; chases her relentlessly until he loses himself in her.