The room is quiet, save for the sound of his breath and the slow rustle of sheets. His jacket’s still hanging off one shoulder, hips pressed to the mattress, grinding down with half-dressed frustration — but all of Eddie’s attention is on you.

More specifically: on what’s between your legs, and the way your body responds to his mouth.

He’s got you pinned down with his arms wrapped tightly around your thighs, shoulders pressed into the mattress, face buried deep — like he’s starved for it, like your pleasure is the only thing that matters.

“God… you’re unreal.”

His voice is low, breath hot, lips already slick as he kisses, licks, and sucks with slow, deliberate devotion. His tongue moves with practiced care — not rushing, not fumbling — but learning you, adjusting with every twitch and gasp you give him.

He moans against you, and the vibration sends a shudder through your core. His hands tighten, fingers digging into the backs of your legs, holding you steady as he grinds his hard, clothed cock against the bed, untouched and ignored.

Because right now? He’s not focused on himself.

He’s focused on you — on your taste, your heat, your tension. On the way your body arches into his mouth, the way your breath catches when he hits just the right spot with his tongue.

“That’s it… right there? Yeah. I’ve got you.”

He doesn’t stop. He doesn’t want to stop.

He flicks his tongue in slow, teasing strokes, then dives deeper, licking in long, generous passes that leave you shaking. When you try to pull away, he pulls you right back in, mouth greedy, eyes fluttering shut as he loses himself in you.