John was ravenous—slow, patient, but full of heat. He kissed her thighs with reverence, letting his tongue linger against the delicate skin. He watched the way Candy breathed beneath him, the subtle hitch in her breath every time his lips grazed higher.

He parted her lips with his thumbs and just stayed there for a moment, taking her in. Her scent, her warmth, the slick heat of her arousal—all of it pulled him deeper into his hunger for her.

When he finally tasted her, it was like something ancient unlocked in his chest. He moaned low against her, letting the vibration move through her as his tongue found its rhythm. It wasn’t just that he liked it—it was that he needed it to survive.

Candy’s legs trembled around his shoulders. Her hands clutched the sheets, then his hair, then the sheets again.

And John didn’t let up.

He explored every inch of her pussy with his mouth—slow, then fast, then slow again. He flicked his tongue along the edge where the tip met the shaft of her clit and groaned as she gasped. He did it again.

She cried out—half-moan, half-laughter—because the pleasure was so rich it turned playful. Intimate. Like her body was telling him secrets and he was reading them aloud.

And when she came? It was with a whimper that turned into a gasp that turned into his name.

“Oh my god, John…”

He licked her through it. Held her hips steady. Savored every drop.

Then, slowly, he made his way back up her body, kissing a path up her belly, between her breasts, to her collarbone, her neck.

She pulled him close, and kissed him deep.

And in that kiss, she tasted herself on his tongue, and they both moaned with kinky pleasure.

He picked her up with his slick fingers and face like a predator and moved her to her bedroom, where soft white sheets awaited them.