Until his face is between my thighs.
He licks my pussy, and once again, my hips shoot off the mattress. “Oh my god.”
“Good or bad?” he murmurs against my clit.
“Good.”
“A little good, or a lot good?”
“Do it again.”
My fingers tangle in his hair again as he obeys orders, licking all the way up my pussy until he gets to my clit.
He flicks his tongue.
I grip his hair harder while my hips pump against his face.
He stops asking questions.
Good thing.
I don’t even know what words are right now.
Just know the heavy, tight sensation coiling hard and fast low in my belly. The tickle of his beard between my thighs, the rub of his mustache against my clit as he explores every inch of my pussy with his mouth, the slow, studious licks and sucks getting faster and faster as he uses his mouth and his hands on my thighs to urge me closer and closer.
I think I’m whimpering.
I want to orgasm and I don’t want this to stop.
But if I come, then it stops.
My hips buck harder. I can’t catch my breath.
And then I’m coming with a scream as everything inside me breaks free.
Shame floats away on the wind.
Modesty flies with it.
My legs go straight.
My toes curl again.
My eyelids squeeze shut.
My hands ball into fists and I’m likely pulling out some of his hair.
I’m coming so hard, my inner walls clamping fast and tight, over and over, ecstasy pulsing between my thighs.
He makes a soft rumble of appreciation while I come all over his bearded face.
The kind of sound you make when you take the first bite of the most delicious chocolate caramel dessert you’ve ever had in your life.
That’s what Davis sounds like.
Like I’m the best chocolate caramel dessert he’s ever had in his mouth.
Like my pleasure is his pleasure.
