I giggle then hiccup-gasp as his hand slides between my legs and glides up my thigh. He dips his head in close, kissing where his hand just touched and heightening my anticipation so wildly that there isn’t an inch of my skin left without goosebumps.
“You’re so beautiful,” he croons. It’s the same tone he uses for singing. The voice that drives everyone wild. But it’s still his voice. It’s not something he puts on. “I love the way you smell.”
I flush deeply, my toes curling. I just had his cock down my throat and my nose nestled right into him before that, but it’s different when he does it to me. It makes me shy.
When he nudges my thighs wider, I let him spread me open, though. I rest my feet on his shoulders and then edge them down his back when he leans closer. Closer, so much closer, until his hot breath fans over my overheated skin, though his still feels warmer.
Nothing is hotter than his mouth. Literally. Figuratively. All the ways.
He licks me right over the soaked lace, tracing a path to my clit. He knows exactly what he’s doing, angling his chin down so that while he flicks his tongue over my sensitive nerves, his skin rasps over the rest of me, pressing the lace down hard. I didn’t know lace could be so abrasive. I didn’t know I could hate it for being in the way so badly.
He shifts his mouth, pulling it away before balling my panties up in his hand. But he doesn’t tear them off or away. He twists them, trapping my clit while freeing almost all of the rest of me. His tongue traces down my seam, and then he latches his mouth there and eats at me like he’s been waiting an eternity for exactly this moment. He doesn’t tease me. Hedevoursme.
It’s like asking for a tiny little static shock for fun and getting the business end of a cattle prod. Except it also feels good, in a torturous sort of way.
“Holy fucks,” I groan. Fucks. As in, all of them. I need every single one right now. He’s two seconds in, and I’m about to come apart at the seams.
Where’s the sexual glue when you need it? Or control, I suppose.
I close my eyes and try to summon up unsexy thoughts, but all I get is a whole lot of Wilder telling me he wanted to be fully naked while he ate me out.
Heat wells up, exploding in my thighs and belly, a current that travels to the rest of my body. I throw one hand out behind me, grasping the counter, and switch the other to the nape of Wilder’s neck so I don’t accidentally pull too hard on his hair.
He’s good at this. Way too good.
Especially when his tongue pushes up against my entrance, licking me there a few times as a tease, and then pushing inside.
I vibrate like I just got another electric shock and start chanting out nonsense that has witchy vibes written all over it. If I were burning incense in here, Wilder would probably start to wonder what the hell was happening.
My legs start vibrating like I’ve just run a marathon, climbed a mountain, swam an ocean, and set a new world record for squats. My breasts are tingling, but I resist the urge to touch my nipples. I need to hold it together, not give myself more stimulation.
He suddenly stops and lets my panties fall back into place. They’re clammy and cold, and I desperately would like themoff. I barely refrain from tugging Wilder’s face back to me like an unhinged beast.
“I have a confession,” he admits, staring up at me with his chin and lips glistening. He could tell me absolutely anything right now, and it wouldn’t change my mind about the man he is.
He could tell me anything ever. Period.
“No one knows this.” He drops his eyes to the floor.
I barely refrain from leaping off the counter and hugging him. Instead, I set my hand on his shoulder. “Do I have to guess? I might come up with some horrifying answers. Or a few hilarious ones.”
“I have a butt thing,” he blurts.
I study him, trying to figure out exactly whatbutt thingmeans. “Like… a butt plug? You have one in right now?” If that’s true, I’m dead times a million billion. Ambillion. “Or there’s something wrong with your butt?”
His eyes practically cross. “No. It’s more like… uh… how that lick your crack poem went.”
I’m confused for all of two seconds before the light goes on in my brain. It’s a delayed reaction, given how much blood my clit has siphoned away from my head. “As in the poem was a self-fulfilling prophecy?” He likes his crack licked? He likes butt stuff? Pegging? My god, I can’t believe I even know that word. Then again, who lives to be this old and doesn’t encounter the term somewhere?
I never would have pegged myself as someone who’d like pegging—holy shit, is it not a bad time to make puns like that? But if Wilder wanted me to do that with him, I’d be all for it. Nothing he could ever be into would be a turnoff for me. On the flipside, if there was something I liked that someone I trusted with my body and my truth refused to do and called me gross and weird, I’d be so hurt.
“I don’t know. I’ve never had it done to me before,” he says with a straight face.
Now I’m even more bewildered. I should probably stop guessing.
“I’d like to do it to you,” he adds. Oh, the way he looks at me. The intensity in his eyes.
I grasp both his shoulders to keep myself from flopping right off the counter. I wriggle my ass a little further on to be sure I’m not going to face dive off of here.
