I grab the bottle of tequila and pour it over her tits, watching it drip over her slight curves. Her breathing is shaky and her skin glistens, nipples pebbled as I lean forward and lap up every drop like a man dying of thirst.
“Oh God, Tripp.”
The air whooshes from her lungs as my lips close around her nipple, sucking deep and slow.
She wanted messy. She wanted dirty. And I have zero problem obliging her.
“More,” she begs.
She throws her head back as I tip the bottle again, letting the tequila trail between her breasts and over her flat stomach. I lick my way back up, savoring every drop, giving extra attention to her nipples. They’re slick and swollen—fucking irresistible. It makes everything feel even filthier. Hotter. I circle them with my fingers before sucking one back into my mouth, greedy.
She’s straddling my lap now, grinding against me in a way that should be illegal.
There’s a buzz under my skin, and I’m not sure if it’s from the tequila or if I’m drunk onher.
Her fingers slide under my shirt, nails scraping gently down my stomach. She thumbs open the button on my jeans—but I stop her, wrapping my hand around her wrist.
I know the second her hand gets anywhere near my cock, I’m going to come. Hard.
I need to build up some sort of tolerance to her. I refuse to go down in her memory as a one-pump chump. If I can make her come and not lose it from just the sight of her, then maybe next time I’ll let her touch me.
But right now? I don’t trust myself with her hands on me.
It has been too long since I’ve felt a woman’s soft hands wrapped around me, even longer since I’ve sunk into a cunt this sweet, and I am not about to embarrass myself. Again.
I’m better than that.
Besides, she deserves… Christ. She deserves so much better than me.
But I can give her what she’s so eager for. We can play this game—exactlylike she wants.
I slide my hands beneath her thighs and gently lift her knees, placing one on each armrest. She’s open, panting, glistening.
“Let’s see if you taste just as sweet as that honey.”
I sink lower into my chair and kiss the tattoo low on her hip before hovering over her pussy. She rocks her hips forward impatiently. But I don’t give her what she wants right away.
Instead, I coast my lips in a teasing circuit—brushing over the spot where I know she’s aching for my tongue. She chases my mouth, and I inhale her sharp, musky scent. It’s hot and heady, and it makes my dick go even harder.
I nip at her thigh, and she gasps.
“Tripp. Please. I need to... fuck, I need your mouth.”
My name drips from her lips like honey, and those urgent little pleas? They’re the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard.
I love how eager she is for this. How much she wants it.
My fingers dig into the flesh of her hips as I finally swipe my tongue through her pussy. And that taste?
Fuck.
Stick a fork in me.
I’m done.
I have to force myself to stay in control, to not lose it just from tasting that intoxicating mixture of salty and sweet on my tongue.
Five years of celibacy is doing me no favors tonight. It takes everything in me to get my dick in check so I don’t come in my pants a second time.
