The first stroke of his tongue rips an unholy moan from my throat.
He groans in response like he loves it. The vibration of his lips on me makes me spasm head to toe.
"Fuck, you taste incredible," he snarls against my thigh.
He does slow, teasing circles around my lips, leaving little nibbles along the crease of one hip.
He's torturing me, but I love it so much. I'm so lost in the sensation that I barely register when he freezes.
"What the hell is this?"
My brain is too scrambled to process the question. "What?"
He pulls back to squint down. "You're hurt."
Oh. The shaving incident.
"It's nothing," I say quickly, trying to pull him back to where I want him.
"Just nicked myself shaving earlier. It's fine."
His frown deepens as he examines the small Band-Aid I'd slapped on in my post-shower panic. "You should've been more careful."
"Andrew, I really don't think now is the time to—"
"Did you clean it properly?"
