The tentative, hesitant strokes of her tongue were replaced by bold, swirling licks. She was no longer just following his instructions; she was exploring, learning what made him groan, what made his hips twitch.
Her mouth was a velvet furnace, and the sight of her, raven hair spilling over his thighs, her eyes still closed in concentration, was almost enough to push him over the edge right then.
"Gods, Ashanti," he grunted, his fingers tightening in her silken locks. "You're a natural. A fucking natural."
His praise seemed to spur her on. She pulled back until just the tip of his cock was in her mouth, her tongue flicking against the sensitive slit, tasting the constant trickle of precum.
Then, in a move that shocked him to his core, she pressed her soft lips against the head of his cock in a reverent, open-mouthed kiss.
It was an act of worship, a silent acknowledgment of his power and her submission, and it was one of the most erotic things he had ever experienced.
