Verena's every movement, every breath, every sound - whether deliberate or involuntary - became a wordless declaration, a hymn of trust and surrender. The way she yielded to him, the way her body responded with such complete openness, told AJ more than any confession ever could. It was there in the way she let herself be seen, let herself be touched, fully and without hesitation. She was offering herself without reservation now, and he felt the magnitude of that offering deep in his chest.
He hadn't forgotten what she had shared with him over the past few weeks - fragmented pieces of a painful past, moments she had carried alone until she trusted him enough to say them aloud. Each revelation had been a small, brave step, and he had held them with care. But this moment - this sacred, physical trust - felt like the culmination of it all. A silent vow. A gift. One he had no intention of taking lightly. There was reverence in every movement he made. Every shift of his body, every flick of his tongue, was deliberate. AJ moved in a way that whispered, Thank you. I see you. I cherish this. The intimacy between them was more than physical - it was deeply emotional, electric with both heat and meaning. This wasn't about dominance, or even pleasure alone. It was about trust being made flesh.
And yet, within that tenderness, he let himself play. He changed his rhythm, introducing a touch more urgency - aggressive, but enough to surprise her, to keep her in that edge-space between anticipation and reaction. He wanted to unearth every layer of her desire, draw out new sounds, new shivers, new ways her body might respond to being adored. His tongue moved with intentional grace, trailing up and down the length of her pussy in unhurried strokes. When he reached the top, he circled her clit with practiced care, not too fast, not too light - enough to make her feel it build, tease by tease. Then, as he descended again, he'd let the very tip of his tongue just brush over her entrance, tasting her, tempting her, but never quite giving her the full sensation of penetration. It was a dance of almosts, of provocative restraint.
He did this for long minutes, allowing her to fall deeper into the sensations he conjured. He was acutely aware of her reactions - the shifting of her hips, the small, breathless gasps, the way tension gathered in her muscles only to tremble and release. She was already unravelling, and that pleased him deeply. But he wasn't satisfied with merely making her come. No, tonight he wanted more. How far could he take her? That was the question in his mind, the quiet challenge that fuelled his every move. Could he guide her into new territory, coax out moans she didn't even know she could make? Could he tap into that deep well of pleasure that lived in every woman but was rarely brought forth with such care?
He shifted again, not out of impatience but precision. Two fingers found her now-dripping entrance and, with steady pressure, began to press inside. She was hot, tight, and slick, and the way she welcomed him in made his cock ache with need. But this moment wasn't about his release - it was about hers. His fingers slid in slowly, deliberately, feeling the soft give of her inner walls as they stretched around him. There was no rush. Only connection. Only this. He curled his fingers just slightly, angling them to find the spot he knew would make her back arch, make her breath catch in her throat. All while his tongue stayed busy, never breaking its rhythm on her clit—now circling, now applying the kind of pressure that turned desire into need, need into helpless, pulsing want.
He was relentless in the most careful way. Every stroke of his tongue was in conversation with the slow, firm thrust of his fingers. It wasn't about speed. It was about sensation, about layering pleasure upon pleasure until she was trembling on the edge. He wanted her to feel consumed by it. Overwhelmed. Lost in the world he was creating for her. This was no performance. This was devotion, plain and raw. Her body was giving him everything - every sound, every pulse, every twitch - and AJ read it like a language only he was meant to understand. He responded to her without needing instruction. He knew when to slow, when to deepen, when to push just a little further. He wanted to explore every nuance of her desire, to map it with tongue and fingers and time. He didn't care how long it took. Didn't care if he made her come once or ten times. What mattered was the journey, the surrender, the connection that tethered them to each other in this moment. She had given him her trust. And AJ would worship every inch of it.
As her body began to tighten again, signaling the build of another wave, he didn't relent. He leaned into it, deeper, firmer, more insistent. Not to force her over - but to let her know she was safe to fall. Safe to lose herself. Safe with him. Tonight wasn't just about pleasure. It was about her healing, her freedom, and the sacredness of being fully known. And AJ would spend all night proving she was worthy of nothing less.
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