Better Than Bathing

He tilted his head back in a gasp, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "Qing-er …" he breathed.

His reaction eased me—I must be doing something right. I kept my eyes locked on him, watching his every expression closely as I started swirling my tongue around him, maintaining the strokes with my hand at the same time. The fresh taste of spring water mingled with the masculine scent of musk engulfed me, invading all my senses. I savored him slowly, running my tongue over every crease and bulge on his sides before moving back to the front, brushing gently over his tip.

He tensed with a deep groan. His hand slipped behind my head, and he threaded his fingers through my hair. The heat of his palm burned me. In the last light of dusk, I saw his cheeks flush with the luring colors of desire, his thick lashes fluttering over his squeeze-shut eyes just like his erratic breaths.