His lips were unnaturally cold the first time he pressed them to your mound.

You even shivered, and it made him stop right away—dark eyes full of fear staring up at you from below.

“Did I do something wrong?”

You kept your legs spread, shaking your head gently. “No… it’s just—”

You gave him a small smile and leaned down to stroke his cheek. “Your lips… they’re special.”

“Special?” Adam asked, then kissed your pubic bone again—more feverishly. “Why?”

Your lashes fluttered, both from his genuine curiosity and the way his breath tickled your core.

“Because you weren’t made to be special,” you whispered. “You were born to be.”

You said it on purpose because he wasn’t just a creature to you.

Adam tried to smile. Your words struck something inside his broad chest. He dipped back down, laying open-mouthed kisses all along your inner thighs until his nose brushed your clit—accidentally.

You threw your head back, gasping, arching against the bed.

“Do that again,” you said in a strained voice, before you could even think. “…Please.”

He froze, then did it again—brushing the tip of his nose softly beneath the hood of your clit.

You moaned louder, fingers digging into the mattress. Your legs wrapped instinctively over his shoulders. He didn’t stop you—but he didn’t fully understand what it meant either.

Mesmerized, he kissed one thigh. Then the other. His hands stroked your ankles, your hips—treating you like something sacred.

Something to be worshipped.

“Beautiful,” Adam murmured like a prayer. “So soft… so warm.”

He nuzzled between your legs, eyes fluttering shut as he buried his face against your heat. He’d learned how to kiss—but what now? His confusion was palpable.

You wanted to be his guide. To help him. To make this mean something.

You reached for the crown of his head, tangling your fingers through his long hair. Gently, you pressed him closer—and he followed the motion like a spellbound child.

“I want you to… kiss me there,” you said, your voice trembling.

He was breathing hard. Almost choking on it.

Your scent was heady—sweet and intoxicating. He didn’t know what to do with it. So he simply pressed his mouth over your slit and slowly dragged his tongue, collecting your taste.

“A-ahh…” you gasped, tugging his hair a little. “Yes—yes, like that.”

Adam did it again, this time more confidently. His tongue sent sparks through your system. He couldn’t quite understand how or why—but the way you writhed beneath him, how your legs trembled, how you said his name…

Something in him responded. Something deep and primal.

It frightened him. But it also called to him—like a fire in the cold.

“You’re so sweet,” he whispered against your folds. “It scares me… it allures me.”

You cried out when his tongue flattened, dragging along your slit, then—led purely by instinct—he delved it inside.

Your hips jerked. Your hand tangled deeper in his hair, holding him tight between your thighs. He was starved for you. He didn’t even realize it.

His mouth worked messily, licking, kissing, suckling with no finesse.

Just raw, unfiltered need.

No pattern. No technique. Just want.

Gasps and half-moan sounds filled the room—desperate, imperfect, real.

You shattered. Came undone with your legs locked tight around his head.

And still, Adam stayed there.

He didn’t know to stop. He didn’t know what it meant to “finish.” He just flicked his tongue again and again—tasting you, chasing your pleasure, not even knowing he’d already stolen it.

You kept murmuring his name until you could no longer speak.