Oral

"Oral."

Emily’s smile deepened—not coy, not smug, but warm and undeniably pleased.

“Good,” she said softly, her fingers brushing through his hair. “That’s a brave choice.”

She shifted again, rising from the bed in one slow, fluid motion. Eli’s eyes followed every inch of her as she stood at the foot of the bed—her silhouette framed in sunlight through half-closed blinds, every line of her body gleaming with heat and confidence.

She didn’t pose. She just was, and that was more powerful than anything artificial.

Then she held out her hand.

“Come here, Eli.”

He sat up slowly, almost reverently, and took her hand. She guided him to kneel at the edge of the bed while she remained standing. They were face to stomach now—his breath catching as his gaze followed the gentle curve of her hips down to where her thighs parted.

“You remember what I told you?” she asked, voice low, intimate.

He nodded. “Start slow… tease. Flat tongue. Pressure, not poking.”

“Good,” she murmured, clearly pleased. She stepped forward, her legs framing his shoulders. “You’re going to do fine.”

She didn’t grab his head or grind herself into his mouth—she waited. Let him take initiative. Let him show her he wanted it. One hand cradled the back of his neck, her thumb brushing just under his ear. “Take your time. Learn me. I’ll guide you if I need to, but mostly... I just want to feel what you do.”

She tilted her hips forward, just enough to bring the heat of her pussy close to his mouth—shaven clean except for a soft, neat strip of dark hair above. Her folds were already wet, flushed, slightly parted from arousal alone.

Emily looked down at him, gaze molten. “Taste me, Eli.”

Eli leaned in slowly, his breath warm against her, and Emily felt her pulse quicken just from the anticipation. She didn’t move. She didn’t even breathe for a moment, just let the tension build, let the silence stretch as he hesitated—nervous, reverent, curious.

Then his mouth touched her.

A slow, tentative lick, broad and soft, from the bottom of her folds to the top. Not too fast. Not poking. Just like she’d told him.

Emily’s hand tightened slightly in his hair, not to control him, just to let him know he was on the right path. “Mmmh,” she hummed, hips tilting slightly forward. “That’s it…”

Eli exhaled shakily against her and went again. Another stroke, firmer this time, his tongue flatter, slower. She let her legs part a little wider, her thighs bracketing his face, and his hands came up instinctively—one on her hip, the other resting just behind her thigh. She could feel the way his fingers trembled.

She let him explore.

Every few seconds, his mouth would shift—circles now, then side to side. One flick too high made her twitch, and he felt it. He adjusted. Slower again, back lower. His mouth was warm and careful, soaking her, and Emily’s breath caught as he finally began to focus near her clit—not directly, not too hard, just enough.

“Ohh… fuck, Eli,” she whispered, head tilting back. “That’s really fucking good.”

His tongue flattened, stroking more confidently now. His rhythm wasn’t perfect, but his attention was. Every change in her breath, every shift in her hips, he responded to—and she could feel him trying, feel him learning her. She rocked slowly against him, her fingers threading deeper into his hair, breath growing unsteady.

She felt her legs start to tremble.

“Use your fingers,” she whispered, voice rougher now. “Just one. Slowly.”

His hand slipped between her thighs, hesitant but eager. He dragged one fingertip through her slickness, then circled her entrance. Emily moaned low in her throat as he pushed in—not deep, not fast, just enough to make her clench around him.

“Mmmhhnn… yes… fuck…”

His mouth stayed steady on her clit, licking in slow pulses while his finger worked in and out of her with aching care. The combination made her knees weaken, and she reached behind to steady herself against the wall.

“Right there,” she gasped. “Don’t stop. Don’t you fucking stop—”

Eli’s tongue moved faster, more confident, more pressure, and she shook—hips jerking, thighs clenching around his head as the orgasm slammed into her. Her cry ripped out sharp and breathless, hips rocking against his mouth as she came hard, wet, gasping, hand fisting in his hair while he kept going.

She didn’t stop him. Not yet.

She rode it out—every wave, every flicker, until she had to push gently at his head with a shaky laugh. “Okay… okay, Eli… fuck.”

He looked up at her, face wet, lips parted, stunned.

She motioned him to stand up and sit on the bed before she joined him, straddling his lap, still trembling. Her hands cupped his cheeks and she kissed him hard—tasting herself on his mouth.

“You did so fucking well,” she whispered against his lips. “I meant it—we’ll get to the rest soon. But goddamn, Eli… that was better than half the men I’ve been with.”

Her hips rolled slightly against him as she said it, slow and dangerous.

“Next round,” she murmured, voice dark velvet, “you’re going to use those hands too. But for now?”

She kissed the corner of his jaw, then his throat.

“You’ve earned a reward.”

The look in her eyes said she was nowhere near done.