I pull her thong aside. “Try to be quiet.” She nods repeatedly, falling back on her elbows. “I can be quiet.” I grin, and she watches me flick my tongue over her clit, then farther down. Her thighs tremble, but she cages a noise. Then I go to town, sucking, licking—the taste of her is soul-soothing. A breakfast-lunch-dinner-dessert craving that I can’t find on this planet. Just hers. Only hers.
