He sets me on the counter, the cold surface making me gasp. Then he’s spreading my thighs and stepping between them.
“I’ve been thinking about this,” he murmurs, kissing down my throat. “Having you in my kitchen. On my counter.”
“You have a perfectly good bed.”
“I’ve had you in my bed.” He drops to his knees in front of me, his face level with my center. “Now I want you here.”
I should protest. Should point out that this is where he prepares food, that it’s unsanitary, that we really do need to talk about practical things like jobs and apartments and the future.
But then his mouth is on me and I stop thinking entirely.
He eats me like I’m breakfast. Slow and thorough, his tongue exploring every fold, his lips sucking gently on my clit. My hands grip his shoulders, my head falling back against the cabinet.
“Tolin.” His name comes out broken. “God, Tolin.”
He hums against my pussy and the vibration sendsshockwaves through me. Two thick fingers slide inside me, curving to hit that spot that has me crying out.
“So wet,” he murmurs. “Always so wet for me.”
“Please.” I don’t even know what I’m begging for. More. Everything. Him.
He gives me what I need. His fingers pumping faster, his tongue working my clit, his free hand gripping my thigh hard enough to bruise. The orgasm builds fast, pulling me under with every stroke.
“Come for me, Imani.” His voice is rough, commanding. “Let me taste you.”
I come hard, the pleasure crashing through me in waves, my whole body shaking, my thighs clamping around his head. He doesn’t stop, just keeps licking, keeps fingering, drawing out every last tremor until I’m pushing weakly at his shoulders.
“Too much,” I gasp. “I can’t...”
He pulls back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, looking up at me with those dark eyes bright with triumph.
“One,” he says.
“One?”
“I’m not done with you yet.”
He stands and pulls me to the edge of the counter, positioning himself between my thighs. I feel his dick pressing against my entrance, thick and hard and ready.
“I’m going to fuck you right here,” he says, his voice low. “In my kitchen. On my counter. And you’re going to take it.”
I whimper as he pushes inside me, stretching me open, filling me completely. My legs wrap around his waist, pulling him deeper.
“That’s it.” He starts to move, slow and deep. “That’s my good girl.”
The praise makes me clench around him and he groans. His pace picks up, his hips snapping against mine, the sound of skin on skin filling the kitchen.
“You feel so good,” he pants. “So tight. So perfect. Made for me.”
“Yes.” I’m barely coherent, lost in the sensation of him. “Made for you. Only you.”
He fucks me harder, one hand braced on the cabinet behind me, the other gripping my hip. The pleasure between us doubles back on itself, building until I don’t know where he ends and I begin.
“I’m close,” he grinds out. “Need you to come with me. Can you do that?”
“Yes.” I’m already there, already teetering on the edge. “Yes, please, Tolin.”
His thumb finds my clit, working it in circles, and I explode. The orgasm tears through me, making me scream his name, my pussy clenching around him. He follows a second later, burying himself deep and spilling inside me with a groan.
