Willow’s entire world shattered into a million glittering fragments, and each fragment was a shard of pure, unadulterated ecstasy.

The first touch of Jax’s mouth against her core was a cataclysm of pleasure, the moment a star ignites, the silent, brilliant flash of a universe being born.

A strangled gasp was torn from Willow’s throat, her back arching off the silken sheets as a bolt of lightning-hot pleasure shot through her entire being.

Jax didn’t even rush, which only heightened the intense feeling Willow was experiencing.

Jax was savoring this delicious meal before him.

His hot breath, a stark, teasing contrast to the slick, cool heat of her folds, ghosted over her most sensitive flesh.

It was a deliberate, torturous act of anticipation, making her skin tingle and her muscles clench with a need so profound it was a physical ache.

She could feel every single exhalation, every warm puff of air that fanned the flames of her desire, pushing her higher, making her needier, more desperate.

"♥ Jax... ♥" she whimpered, her voice a broken, pleading thing.

Her hands, which had been clutching the sheets, flew down to tangle in his thick, dark hair, her fingers gripping him tightly, not to push him away, but to anchor herself, to keep from flying apart completely.

He responded to her plea not with words, but with a slow, deliberate kiss. His lips, soft yet firm, pressed against her slick, swollen folds.

It was a kiss of ownership, of reverence, a silent promise of the pleasure to come.

He inhaled deeply, a possessive sound of satisfaction rumbling in his chest as he breathed in her intoxicating, musky scent—the scent of a witch utterly lost in her desire for her king.

Then, his tongue emerged.

It was a slow, languid swipe, a broad, flat stroke that parted her folds and gathered her overflowing juices.

The sensation was exquisite, a velvet rasp against her most sensitive skin that sent shivers of pure bliss radiating outwards.

He groaned against her, the vibration adding another layer of pleasure, a deep, resonant hum that she felt not just in her clit, but in her very soul.

He began to eat her out in earnest then.

There was nothing hesitant or exploratory about his movements. He was a master, and her pussy was his instrument.

His tongue was a thing of impossible dexterity and skill, flicking, swirling, and probing with a knowing precision that left her breathless.

He traced the intricate folds of her sex, mapping every sensitive ridge, every hidden nerve ending, committing her to memory with every pass.

Willow was a writhing, sobbing mess. Her hips bucked uncontrollably, grinding against his face, seeking more of that incredible pressure, more of that divine friction.

The sounds she made were no longer human; they were the primal cries of a creature consumed by pleasure, a symphony of whimpers, moans, and desperate pleas, "♥ Please... please... don’t stop... ♥"

He had no intention of stopping. His focus narrowed, his tongue zeroing in on the tight, throbbing bundle of nerves at the apex of her folds.

He circled her clit slowly, tormentingly, before finally, mercifully, taking it into his mouth.

He sucked.

It wasn’t a gentle pull; it was a hard, possessive suction.

A vacuum of pure pleasure that stole the air from her lungs and sent her vision spinning.

His lips sealed around her clit, his tongue flicking rapidly against the trapped nub, a relentless, rhythmic assault that pushed her to the very edge of sanity.

"♥ JAX! ♥" she screamed, her grip on his hair tightening painfully, her body bowing off the bed. It was too much. It was perfect.

She was so close, teetering on the precipice of a devastating orgasm, a tidal wave of pleasure that was about to crash over her and drown her completely.

And then, he slid a finger inside her.

It was a single, thick finger, but it felt like a log being driven into her. He didn’t just enter her; he possessed her.

He pushed into her slick, clenching heat, burying himself to the knuckle in one smooth, dominant stroke.

The feeling of being so completely full, of having his mouth on her clit and his finger buried deep inside her, was the final straw.

Her mind broke.

The orgasm that ripped through her was not a gentle wave; it was a tsunami. A violent, explosive eruption of pleasure that obliterated her senses and shattered her consciousness.

Her entire body convulsed, her inner walls clamping down like a vise on his finger, a gush of her hot juices flooding his hand as she screamed his name until her voice was raw.

But Jax didn’t stop. He rode out her climax with relentless, expert precision. His mouth never left her clit, his finger never ceased its deep, deliberate stroking.

He curled his finger inside her, finding that rough, sensitive patch of tissue deep within her channel, and began to rub it in a "come here" motion.

The pleasure didn’t subside; it intensified. A second, even more powerful orgasm crashed over her before the first had even fully receded, a rolling, continuous wave of ecstasy that left her sobbing and thrashing, her mind a blank, white canvas of pure sensation.

She was no longer in control of her own body. She was a puppet, and Jax was the master, pulling her strings, making her dance on the edge of oblivion.

"♥ More... ♥" she begged, the words a nonsensical chant, a desperate prayer to her god. "♥ Please... more... Jax... more... ♥"

He answered her prayer. He slid a second finger into her, stretching her, filling her even more.

He began to thrust them in and out, a slow, hard, pistoning rhythm that was in perfect counterpoint to the relentless sucking and licking of his mouth.

The dual stimulation was mind-bending, a symphony of pleasure that was building towards a crescendo that threatened to tear her apart.

He was devouring her, consuming her, and she was letting him. She was giving him everything, every last drop of her essence, every fragment of her soul. He was her king, her master, her god, and this was her worship.

This was her heaven, and as he pushed her towards yet another earth-shattering climax, she knew, with a certainty that resonated to the very core of her being, that there was no other place she would rather be.