Eliza sipped her coffee, put it on her bedside table, then shuffled closer to me, shifting the breakfast basket to one side. My clit woke up. I gulped.
The darkness in her eyes, the intention in her face. I recognised it from last night. I wanted it so badly again.
My mind blanked as Eliza ripped open the last half of her pastry, ran her finger along the warm chocolate and smeared some on my stomach, then my nipple.
I gasped. I hadn’t been expecting that.
Then, with no pause, she got on all fours again — godammit, the woman was insatiable — and licked the chocolate off my stomach ever-so-slowly.
It was at that point I decided that perhaps she was right. We should enjoy this for what it was.
Plus, there was no way I’d stop her licking the chocolate off my nipple.
When she did, I groaned again, as she swirled her tongue around it, then sucked hard. When she pulled back, she made sure to lick her lips fully, her tongue hanging out of her mouth suggestively.
She grinned at me, reached behind her, and grabbed the squirty cream.
“In my own bed, I might not do this. But we don’t have to clean it up.” She shook the can and popped the lid. Then she tipped back her head, opened her mouth, and squirted some cream into it.
My whole body shook with want. Maybe it was the way her blonde waves caught the light, tousled from our night, or how her toned body flexed as she knelt on the bed, all casual dominance. It was like she’d flipped a switch, turning our old issues into this delicious game: her leading, me melting.
She shook the can again. “You into it?”
I salivated, then nodded.
“Open your mouth, then.”
The things that simple sentence did to me. It was just four normal words, nothing fancy. Yet, somehow, coming out of her mouth this morning, they transformed into something so hot, they burned the bed.
Eliza leaned over and squirted cream into my open mouth. It tasted deliciously sweet. I closed my mouth, letting it ooze down my throat, while Eliza placed her mouth next to my ear.
“Now prop yourself up on your elbows, and spread your legs.”
I nearly choked on the cream, as my mouth went dry.
But she was serious. I could tell from the look in her eye. Mischievous. Hungry. Like she’d won this round.
I took a deep breath as Eliza slid between my legs, and pushed them apart. Then she shook the can, and squirted a line of cream up one thigh — shit, it was cold — then the other.
Holy mother of the universe.
A pulse throbbed between my legs.
Eliza flicked her gaze to mine, grinned, then licked the cream off one thigh, then the other. Her tongue was warm and teasing, sending sparks up my spine.
The anticipation of what might happen next was almost too much to take. But I didn’t have to wait long. Within moments, her hot breath was over my very core, and I couldn’t pull my gaze away as she shook the can once more.
“Should I take a bite of scone first? Spread some jam on you, too?” The smirk on her face was priceless, a callback to our snarky past, now laced with lust.
“You can do whatever you like. As long as you put your tongue on me very soon.”
Eliza raised both eyebrows. Then she licked her lips, placed the nozzle over my cunt, then sprayed.
The sensation was like chilled lightning against my natural heat. Cool, fizzy bursts that made me gasp, the sweetness mingling with my own arousal.
“You like that?” she asked.
I nodded. “Strangely, yes.”
