Ella's mind was still foggy, still adrift in the afterglow of their earlier madness, but the sensation was undeniable—someone's mouth was on her breast.
Ross.
His head was bent low, his lips wrapped around her pink nipple, his tongue rolling lazily in slow, indulgent strokes.
He sucked her with a steady rhythm, almost like a man savoring fine wine, taking his time with each pull.
It was tender, intimate—almost too much for her sleepy body to handle.
"Mmmmmm…" she sighed, her back arching ever so slightly.
Her voice came out husky, thick with the remnants of sleep. "Ross…"
It took her a moment to recall where she was, what had happened—the frantic pace of earlier, the way he had filled her so completely, the way she had screamed his name like she'd forgotten the rest of the world existed.
By the time her thoughts caught up, her hand had already found its way to his hair, fingers curling into the thick strands, holding him close.
