He definitely did know his way around. He was so attentive and observant, listening for every hitch of breath, every soft sound, every shift of her thighs and movement of her hips. It didn't take too long before she was struggling to find a rhythm with his mouth, her body bucking against his lips and tongue, the heat of his mouth. One of her hands left her breasts to reach down and tangle in his hair. Her fingers curled into a fist, making it easier to pull him closer by the locks as her hips rocked into him.

"Oh my god. Oh god," she panted out. "I'm gonna come. Quentin, I'm gonna... I'm gonna come." Was it a warning? Was it implying she'd like his permission? A chance to get off his knees? She wasn't sure herself.