She let out a strangled noise.

“For donuts,” I continued, enjoying this way too much.

“D-donuts?” she stuttered. I didn’t know if she was thinking about the fact that I usually ate healthy, or was remembering the panties she wore.

The hand I’d rested on her hip drifted lower, and I rubbed my thumb over the fabric of her panties. She looked down and awareness blossomed in her.

“Can I have a taste, princess?”

I wouldn’t do a damn thing without her consent. If she wanted this as badly as I did, she was going to have to tell me. I needed her words. Needed to know she was dying for this like I was. Only then would I cross the line we could never uncross.

“I . . . I haven’t showered.”

The meaning behind her words hit me like a punch to the gut, and for the briefest of moments, I got angry. I wasn’t sure what kind of men she’d been with before, or if they’d made her feel self-conscious about her scent or taste. But her sentiment was foreign to me. No man would ever stop his girl from blowing him because he thought his cock wasn’t worthy of her mouth. No, he’d shove it down her eager throat, taking pleasure in the way his musk marked her. If she wanted him dirty, then by God, she would have him.

Did Paige really have such deep hang-ups about her body . . . or was it because she was afraid of displeasing me specifically?

I took a deep breath through my nostrils, forcing myself to calm down. It didn’t really matter why she’d shied away. It was my duty to reassure her. To show her that she had no reason to be ashamed. Paige might be a few years older, but it had become obvious that I was the more experienced of us two.

“I don’t give a shit about that.” I turned her face toward mine and pressed a kiss to her lips. Her eyes were drunk with lust. I moved down the bed, tugging the sheet with me, until I was eye level with those playful panties.

I pressed my nose against the juncture between her thighs and inhaled sharply. Her scent made my mouth water and my cock throb. “Fuck, you smell good, princess.”

She let out a soft groan. Her hips twitched up, reflexively seeking more.

Deciding I needed a lot more than just her moans, I sat up and placed one hand on the column of her throat, stroking the hollow there and meeting her wide gaze. I needed to know what she was thinking. “When I fuck you with my tongue, there will be no holding back from either of us.”

Her pupils were dilated and her lips parted. She looked beautiful like this, vulnerable and very much turned on, and I hadn’t even done anything yet other than accidentally flash her the tip of my cock.

“I want you to tell me everything you’re thinking, everything you’re feeling. Do you understand?”

She gave me a quick nod.

I shook my head. “Use your words, beautiful.”

“Yes. I understand.”

“Good girl.”

I lowered my head again and placed my mouth over her panties in a firm kiss. Tasting those donuts, just like I’d promised.

“Jesus, Cannon.” She squirmed.

Planting my hands firmly on her hips, I held her in place. “You’re not going anywhere, not until I get my fill.”

She raised herself on one elbow, her eyes wide, almost frightened.

I mouthed over her panties, letting her feel the heat of my breath, but nothing more. It wasn’t what she needed, and she let me know by whining in frustration.

“Lift up,” I murmured.

She raised her hips. I slowly slid her panties down over her hips, her thighs, letting my fingertips trail over the curve of her calves as I went. When my eyes met tender pink flesh, I sucked in a breath.

“You have a beautiful vagina.” I parted her with my thumb, stroking softly. Her lips were already plump and flushed, glistening wet with arousal. My mouth watered with desire. I was so hungry to taste her—but I had to be patient. I had to make her tell me what she wanted.

She pressed her palms over her eyes. “Oh my God, did you just say that?”

I brushed my lips against her center, leaving a chaste kiss—well, as chaste as a kiss there could be. In my line of work, I had seen a lot of women who were uncomfortable even saying the words for their own body parts. But they shouldn’t be. Especially not Paige.

“Yes, and I meant it. A perfectly plump little clit, cute pink labia, delicious scent.” I kissed her again, this time letting my tongue slide over her swollen bud.

She sucked in a sharp breath and squirmed at my attention.

“Tell me what you feel,” I said, barely pausing long enough to get the words out. Then I was right back to licking her.

“So good. Incredible,” she said on a moan.

“You like my tongue against your clit?” I offered, enjoying her discomfort at having to speak the words.

“Y-yes!” she shouted as I sucked the bundle of flesh between my lips.

I alternated my movements, discovering what she liked. Spurred on by her shouts and moans, I nibbled and licked and sucked until she was bucking against my face. I whispered dirty words against her silken flesh, left bite marks on her inner thighs, and pushed her further than I suspected she’d been pushed before.

“Tell me what you like,” I said.

“Your mouth . . . it feels so good. Right there.”

Using broad strokes, I flattened my tongue against her, moving in a dizzying rhythm as her cries of pleasure grew louder. And then she was coming apart, pushing her hands into my hair and riding my face. It was a beautiful moment that seemed to last and last; each time I thought she was through, another low moan of ecstasy pushed past her lips and her body gave another tremble. Several moments later, when I slid up beside her, Paige was still gasping for breath, covering her face with one hand.