Leaning down, I pressed my tongue onto her wet clit and moved in quick circles, massaging her, because I knew exactly what she liked but was afraid to ask for. Tate liked my tongue. She didn’t want fingers as much as that, and even though I was doing this to her—licking and flicking and fucking her with my mouth—I was doing this for me. It was such a simple act, but nothing we ever did together was simple. It was a moment in an ocean of moments that kept us alive from one minute to the next, and it was heaven.
