“Not there.”
I pause, looking at him over my shoulder and making my confusion evident. When he pulls his lips inward before wetting them with his tongue, I realize what he means.
“Braxton—” I hesitate, my desire growing heady at his suggestion.
He looks at me with half-mast eyes before he reaches forward and gingerly grips my hips pulling me backward toward his face.
“I’ve never…” I can’t seem to finish the sentence, my bronzed skin growing pink from the intensity of my blush.
“I know.”
“I don’t think—”
“Sit on your throne, Azalea,” he rasps, and I oblige.
Lifting one of my legs, I hover over his face, feeling his hot breath fan against the dampened fabric acting as my sole shield from the onslaught I’m about to receive from his tongue. His finger hooks in my underwear before pulling it to the side.
“All the way,” he demands, and I shiver as I lower my hips. The moment his tongue glides along my slit before flicking over my clit, my hips buck in response.
He reaches up to hold me in place before he begins effortlessly working me with his tongue. When he flattens his tongue against me, I have to clutch the back of the armchair to keep myself upright. My body instinctively begins grinding against his face, chasing the pleasure he’s giving me.
“Such a good girl taking what you need,” he praises, and I never knew the power of praise until Braxton started saying things like this to me.
I melt further into him, and when I moan his name, I see his cock twitch in front of me. Letting my body fall forward, I brace myself on one arm and grip his hard length in my hand. His hips buck in response to my touch, but he never ceases his ministrations on me, even as I slowly lick up his long shaft, swirling my tongue around his tip.
He responds with a guttural groan of approval, and I feel the vibrations of him moaning into me, which only encourages me further. I quickly take as much of him into my mouth as I can. His hips instinctively snap up, pushing him deeper down my throat, and I bask in the feeling of him filling me while feasting on me. Tears spring to my eyes as I begin to bob up and down, fighting to focus on him while also feeling him put all of his focus on me. I’m equally worshipping and being worshipped and everything about that notion feels euphoric.
When he slips two fingers inside of me, making me feel full in an entirely new way, I can’t help but moan around him. The mixture of everything has me ready to detonate, and as much as I want to hold off to make this last as long as possible, he completely unravels me the moment he curls his fingers inside of me.
I have no choice but to release him from my mouth as it all becomes too much, and I cry out his name. Not gasp. Not moan. Not whimper. I scream, and he is relentless in drawing out my orgasm until I’m trembling and begging him for mercy.
“Making a mess of me already, and we’ve barely begun.” Braxton’s husky timbre dances across my skin as his hand skates along my spine.
With unsteady legs, I slowly lift myself off of him, swinging around so that I’m no longer straddling his face. I’m grateful when Braxton puts a hand out to steady me, before sitting up on the armchair.
His hands wind their way around my waist and pull me toward him until I’m straddling his lap again. Now that our faces are closer together, I can see my arousal glistening on his dampened lips and chin, and my cheeks pink at the sight of it.
Tentatively, I lean down and brush my lips against his, tasting myself on him. His tongue darts out before gliding along mine, dragging another moan out of me.
“You love tasting yourself on me, don’t you, Wildflower?”
It’s a rhetorical question, but I answer with a breathy, “Yes.”
“Should I make you lick your arousal off my cock after I make you come on it?”
My legs tighten around him at the suggestion. Looking at him through my lashes, I pull my lower lip between my teeth before responding with a soft, “please.”
“Fuck, Azalea.” His head drops back on the armchair, and I see every drop of desire pour out of him. When he looks back at me, I feel my skin burn with need. “What are you doing to me?”
Braxton’s lips lazily drift to my neck while his fingers nimbly work to undo the laces of my dress before pulling it over my head. As soon as the fabric hits the floor I hear his soft gasp as he drinks me in. The look of ardent hunger glowing in his eyes is enough to make me detonate again.
“I think you’re my destruction and salvation,” he murmurs before dragging his lips along my collarbone.
Grasping his chin, I pull his face back to mine, letting our lips mold together once more before I pull away. “I think that is exactly what we are to each other.”
He had pushed my underwear to the side to feast on me before, but now he impatiently rips it from my body as if he can’t bear the thought of separating our bodies for even a moment after my declaration.
He moves as if he’s about to lift me, but I stop him.
