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“Spread your legs. I want to touch you deeper.”

Nia doesn’t hesitate. I’m gratified when she slides her feet farther apart on the deck. I don’t waste a second before plunging my fingers inside her. She’s slick and tight and like something out of my fantasies. No wonder being inside her once somehow rewired my sex drive to respond to her completely.

As she sucks in a breath, I drag my fingers across her clit again, brushing, teasing, tormenting. Her nails dig into my thigh. I see her nipples tighten even more, the tips gleaming in the afternoon sun.

I don’t let up. I don’t stop for any moan, whimper, or plea. If orgasms will help her see how good we’ll be together, she’s going to have them. The fact I love giving them to her is a bonus.

Suddenly, her entire body seizes up. She’s holding her breath, shuddering and tense against me. Her clit swells and hardens. Her pussy isn’t merely slick anymore. She’s wet. She’s juicy.

She’s mine.

“Come, honey. Right on my hand. Let me feel you. Let me hear you. Give it all to me.”

Seconds later, climax comes fast and breaks hard. She keens out and convulses, chest buckling, hips rolling, lips parted with a scream of ecstasy. Pleasure suspends her for long moments, and I drink every moment in, teeming with triumph. Eagerness to be inside her—and to have the right to fill her every night—surges in a hot spill through my blood.

With a rhythmic sweep of my fingers, I ride out her climax all the way to her gasping, frenzied end. Nia has barely had time to go limp in my arms before I turn her to face me and grab her body against mine. As she wraps her legs around my waist, I drop my head and seize her mouth, plunging hot, fast, and deep—the way I intend to do with my body soon.

She clings, moaning into my mouth. As I cross the patio, she’s completely attuned to me, every whimper and shudder given to me totally and freely. This heady willingness is unlike anything I’ve ever felt. I’m greedy for more.

When I reach the table, I swipe one arm across its cool, flat surface, tumbling empty cups onto their sides and moving dishes out of my damn way. Then I lay Nia across the cleared surface and stare. At her darkened eyes and skin. At her stiff nipples still begging for attention. At her swollen, saturated pussy.

Yes. To all of that, hell yes.

I pull up a chair and sit between her splayed legs, then grip her lush hips and drag her to the edge. “Come for me again.”

Nia barely has time to take a breath before I’m on her once more, digging my tongue between her pouting folds and licking my way up her center, finally fucking tasting her.

Oh, god. If I thought I enjoyed stroking her to orgasm, I can already tell I’m going to love tonguing her to one way, way more.

Her taste isn’t like anything I’ve ever had in my mouth. In some ways, she reminds me of wine—rich, complex, and intoxicating. But she’s more. Mysterious, remarkable.

Mine.

I open my mouth wide, as if I can inhale every succulent part of her at once. I’m fucking greedy.

Cupping her thighs in my hands, I spread her wider and settle my tongue over her clit. I lap. She wriggles. I suckle. She jolts. I go deeper, demand more. Her reactions are instant, absolute, and perfect.

The man in me wants to witness every moment of her surrender. This time, I won’t be satisfied by having her in a dark corner while she’s half-covered by whatever she’s wearing because I’m too frantic to be inside her. No, I want the golden sunlight around us as I catalog every dip, swell, valley, nook, and cranny of her body.

Easing away from her sweet sex, I thumb her clit and stare. Her sleek, dark thighs are slender and smooth. Her flat belly leads to a pair of breasts tipped with swelling nipples I can’t wait to get my mouth on. She’s tossed her head back to give me the perfect view of her arched throat, her graceful arms tossed above her head in abandon. Even her feet are dainty with high arches and bright toenails. The best part, however, is definitely in front of me.

Her pussy is spread open like a treat. She looks nothing like Becca, but that’s especially true here. My wife was pale, pink, and shrouded in curls. Nia’s sex is devoid of anything that shields her from me. Here, she’s saturated with a darker hue than the rest of her skin. Because she’s aroused? That idea sends my need for her higher.

I’m fascinated as I spread her open and take another long lick at her center. Beyond her folds, she’s a deep, bold pink—almost red. The contrast is mesmerizing. I want to be right there, sliding my cock into that bright, snug clasp.

As soon as she comes again.

I redouble my effort to ramp her up so I can feel her shatter on my tongue. Under my lips, her whole body turns rigid. As I flick her clit, her breaths turn raspy. She keens, her back arching as she grips my hair and pulls me in closer.

It doesn’t take long before she’s thrashing, lifting to me, and encouraging me to give more.

“Evan… Evan, damn. So good. You make me feel… Yes!”

I love that she’s vocal about her pleasure. I especially love that she lets me arouse her however I want.

Nia is close now. I can see her, smell her, taste the change in her flavor. I dive deeper, thrust two fingers into her empty, clutching opening, and feel her bud surge hard with blood and need against my tongue.

She’s so ready.