Minutes slipped by—three, four, five—in a haze of wet sounds and Sabrina's soft, wondering exhales.
Emboldened by his continued "sleep," she leaned closer.
Her breath ghosted over the sensitive head first, warm and teasing, making it twitch visibly in her grasp.
Then, hesitantly, she darted her tongue out for a taste.
The first lick was feather-light: just the cute pink tip of her tongue flicking across the slit, gathering that salty pearl of precum.
The flavor burst across her senses—musky, intoxicating, purely him—and a quiet moan vibrated in her throat.
Encouraged, she grew braver.
She swirled her tongue around the broad, plum-shaped crown like it was the sweetest lollipop imaginable, tracing the pronounced ridge, lapping again and again at the fresh drops that welled up almost immediately.
Her lips, naturally full and soft, brushed against him with every pass, leaving them glossy and swollen.
Ross had to fight not to groan aloud.
