“No, just the frosting. Just dip your finger in and let me taste it.”
I hesitate for half a second before I do what he wants. Because Easton is convincing if nothing else. I glance over my shoulder at him as I offer him the frosting on my finger, and he takes it into his mouth. He sucks the frosting off and swirls his tongue over the tip of my index finger, flattening it and running it over the pad.
I close my eyes and go to pull my hand back, but his fingers tighten around my wrist, his tongue sliding over my finger again. He’s very fucking clever because it’s nearly impossible not to imagine his tongue working those same patterns over other places on my body.
“East,” I whisper at last, and he releases his grip.
“You’re right. It’s good,” he says softly, his lips at my throat again, kissing me and running his mouth over my delicate skin. “But I’d rather taste you.”
A little gasp pops out of my mouth when he hits a particularly tender spot on my neck, and his hands dig into my hips as he nips at me in the same spot. I press my thighs together, trying to quell the need for him.
“You need it rougher? Am I being too careful with you?” he whispers the question out loud like he’s made a new discovery, his tone low and fascinated. And fuckinghell. I am fucked.
His fingers thread through my hair and he pulls my head back further, exposing more of my neck to him. His teeth graze me again, and another small gasp comes loose before I can stop it. I can already feel my whole body begging for more of him, more of his mouth, more of his hands, more of him anywhere he wants to touch.
“I can be rough if that’s what you need. Is that what you want?”
“I wantyou.”
“Touch yourself for me and let me taste.”
I slide my hand between my legs, realizing I’m wetter than I thought and bring my fingers up again. He licks them, repeating the same ritual as before.
A gritted, “Fuck,” leaves his mouth before he lets my wrist go again.
“Yeah. You definitely taste better. I want that every day if you’ll let me.”
I close my eyes and take a breath, trying to find the ground again because he makes me feel so unraveled, I can barely think straight.
“Let me try? I’ll make the world fade for you for a little while,” he whispers.
“Yes,” I agree so fast I sound desperate. Probably because I am. That’s what he does to me.
He moves the pillows behind me and has me lie back, shifting me up the bed. His eyes rake over me as he slides down, settling between my thighs. And just the sight of him there makes me wetter, makes me want him more.
He kisses a trail over my stomach, beneath my belly button and his fingers part me, gently stroking my clit until I can feel the edges of an orgasm start to form. His kisses trail a pattern back and forth over my skin, coming closer and closer to where his fingers stroke me until he stops abruptly. Moving down and kissing the insides of my thighs instead, his breath is warm against my skin, and the rhythm of his fingers slows.
“Why?” I whimper, and I don’t even care how pathetic I sound. He’s that fucking good already.
“Because if it’s the only time you let me, then I’m taking my time.”
“I will let you whenever you want. Just… please.”
“Do I get a pinkie swear on that?” he teases.
“East!” I growl at him in frustration.
He laughs, and I briefly imagine whether or not the time behind bars would be worth it before his lips press against my skin again, his tongue dragging over every sensitive nerve ending as he coaxes me back to the edge of my orgasm.
“Fuck! You are so good at that,” I mutter, and I know at some point I’m going to regret inflating this rich boy’s ego any further than it already is but right now I don’t care. Right now, I just care that his mouth is on me, and he is expert-level at using his tongue.
“Swear?” he asks.
“I swear.”
“Good.”
His tongue works my clit with punishing dexterity, and I fail to understand how everyone before him was so fucking bad at it when he makes it seem so easy. When my body just does whatever he wants, apparently. He takes several long slow licks of me then, dragging his tongue, making me arch off the bed and curl my fingers into the sheets.
