I settle for the strands of his hair and rock my hips against him. He groans in response, working his tongue against my clit. Without slowing, he peers up, focusing on my face. My skin flushes, not from embarrassment, but the pure lust gazing back at me. It’s the way every woman hopes to be looked at by a man, like an object of pure desire. Something to be worshipped, not possessed.
