She leaned forward to him, moaning, hands still on the edge of the mattress. A groan at his command, and her tongue flicked out, tasting the pearl of his arousal, moaning to slide her tongue flatly across every speck of skin she could reach. She swirled her tongue around the head, curling the top beneath the head, teasing the flesh beneath, barely able to reach. Ter tongue traced designs with just the tip, laved over him in long strokes, worshipping him. She adopted the rhythm of his own flicking, groaning against him, her tongue flicking against his very tip with the cadence he set, every brush just as teasing.<br/><br/>She arched as he pressed a finger in, thrusting, as she clamped down about his fingers, arching her ass down, urging his fingers to that rough patch of skin at her front wall. God how she wanted him, how she wanted it. Every muscle stretched in her, as her hips rolled, urging his fingers, his tongue to press against her, solid, hard, roughly forcing pleasure upon her, making her come, screaming his name, exhausting her. It was all she could feel, the want, the want for more, the want to be his, the want for commands, to be told exactly what to do, exactly how to do it. To please him, to serve him.