Delilah’s POV “Actually, let me pleasure you." A groan ripped from Thorne’s throat as my lips stretched around him. God, he was so big. The taste of him, salty and musky and uniquely Thorne, flooded my senses. I relaxed my jaw, taking him deeper until the tip hit the back of my throat, making me gag softly. His fingers threaded through my hair, not forcing, but guiding, setting a rhythm that was both demanding and reverent. “That’s it,” he rasped, his voice strained. “Take it all, Delilah. Fuck, your mouth is heaven.” Saliva dripped down my chin, a messy, erotic proof of my effort. I looked up at him through my lashes, seeing the raw hunger etched on his face, the corded muscles in his neck tight with restraint. The distant sound of the wedding band playing a cheerful tune was a bizarre soundtrack to this act of pure debauchery. His hips gave a slight, involuntary thrust and he groaned again, low and deep. “Better than any fucking wedding cake.” Before I could proc
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