She took me back in, and the gentle part was already over.
My hand stayed in her hair because she had put it there. Evelyn set the pace herself, wet and steady, tongue flat under the head on every pull back, lips tight on the way down. The sound was filthy in the quiet room. Spit and the taste of both of us. She didn't look away. When I thickened fully she hummed like she had won something, and the hum went through me.
"Mom."
She pulled off just long enough to speak, a string of spit connecting her lip to the head. "I know. Don't warn me like it's a problem. I told you where. Hold my hair if you want. Don't push. I'll take it."
She took it. Deeper. Her hand worked what her mouth left, slick, twisting at the top the way she had in the shower, only now there was no napkin waiting. I felt the edge gather low and fast. She felt it in the jump of me and sped up, not cruel, hungry. Eyes up. Cheeks flushed. The mark of her own teeth on her lower lip when she had to breathe.
