When I come back in, Briana isn’t in the living room. Or the dining room-kitchen combo. She’s nowhere that I can see.
“Briana?” I call. Did I scare her off?
“Just a minute!”
Oh, good. She’s still in the house.
When she comes back out, I drop my rolled-up air mattress and overnight bag.
Briana is standing in what can only be described as an X-rated Santa outfit.
Red velvet clings to every curve and stops just over her perfect little ass. White fur teases the line of paradise that makesup her sweet breasts, and thin straps hint that the whole thing might collapse to the floor and reveal her gloriously naked body in seconds.
“It’s not much, but you can unwrap it tonight. Before or after dinner. Up to you,” she purrs.
It’s bad manners to gallop inside, but I don’t care. I can’t get to that woman fast enough.
“WHAT ARE WE—”
“You. Ass there. Legs here,” Nigel orders, and props me on the back of the couch before wrapping my legs around his neck.
I still want to ask what he’s doing, but my breath is gone. I know what he’s doing.
But Josh didn’t do it often. And he certainly never gripped my thighs and spread them open like a starving man ripping into a bag of pretzels.
Nigel’s hooves stamp as his face sinks between my thighs, and he growls out a happy rumble as he licks across my center like he owns it.
He zeroes in on my clit immediately, making my toes curl, and then backs away, tormenting me with long, slow strokes of his tongue. Dipping in me. Swirling around my nub, and then ignoring it.
Plays me like a fiddle and never says a word, just looks at me to watch me fall apart, flailing like a puppet with someone pulling all my strings.
So, yes. He does own it. Claims parts of me without hesitation.
His fingers press on my outer lips and then sink into my heat, parting me, making me blush. Nigel stares at me, all spread and open, nostrils flared, mouth open. I squirm, and then let out akeening wail I didn’t know I could make when his tongue dives in and starts to thrust, in and out.
That strong jaw isn’t just for show. He fucks me with his tongue, a thumb now toying with my clit, driving me to the edge.
Josh would have stopped after a minute. Other guys? Same.
“Oh my God. Oh, God. Nigel?” I pant. He doesn’t answer. “Are you trying to make me come like this?”
“Mhm.”
“That’s... That takes a long time.”
“I don’t care. Going to do it.” Back to lapping.
“But your neck will hurt. Your tongue will be exhausted.”
“Not if you hush and let me make you come. The sooner you relax and let me adore your little quim, the sooner I’ll be done. Unless you want me to stop right now?”
“No! No. No, it’s just that no one has ever done this for more than a minute or two.”
“Maybe they were at the wrong angle. Are you comfy?”
My head is on a bunch of couch pillows, and my thighs are wrapped around a guy with the face of a Greek god and the body of a Greek monster. And he makes me feel divine. “I’m beyond comfy.”
“Good.” He lowers his head, and this time, he slips his fingers in while sucking on me.
