Her fingers twisted, her thumb sliding between her folds to settle right where she needed it most. Calliope’s breath caught, her eyes rolling back behind half-closed lids.
She had a point.
She had a very good point.
An excellent one, really.
She fell back on her hands, her hips rocking forward of their own accord. “Oh, fuck.”
“You’re so easy,” Lola taunted, her voice practically purring. “Think I can make you come on my fingers before your son is screaming for breakfast again?”
Calliope’s gaze caught hers, biting her lip before she said, “I thought you said you were hungry.”
Lola arched a brow. “Oh, it’s like that, huh?”
She sank to her knees before she could respond, beckoning Calliope closer until she was not so much perched on the counter as resting against it. Lola lifted Calliope’s leg, placing it over her shoulder as she mouthed along her thigh, tongue dragging along the wetness already clinging to her skin.
“You always taste so fucking good,” Lola said, her breath hot against her. “You smell good too.”
Calliope swallowed down the sound fighting its way out her throat as Lola traced her tongue between her folds with excruciating precision, dipping lower with each pass, giving her just enough to tease, but not enough to satisfy.
Calliope made a noise of frustration.
On the next pass, Lola probed deeper, her nose pressing against Calliope’s swollen clit as her tongue slipped inside, like she couldn’t help herself. Calliope gasped, heat surging inside, greedy and insistent, cunt throbbing with her need for more.
“Baby, please,” she begged. “We don’t have much time. You know what I want.”
“So demanding,” Lola chastised as she pulled back, gazing up at her, breathing labored like a diver resurfacing. When Calliope pouted, her wife took pity on her, pressing a kiss to her pubic bone before diving back in with purpose.
“Oh, sweet fucking hell,” she gasped as Lola’s lips closed around her clit, sucking insistently. Calliope’s toes curled, squirming beneath her. “Oh, yeah, do that more,” she panted, her hand resting on Lola’s head, not pushing, just needing to touch her somehow. “Please, please, please.”
Lola hummed, the vibration making Calliope gasp, her belly clenching, aching for more, her hips rocking forward, her body acting almost against her will. Lola liked to tease, liked to play, liked to draw things out, edging Calliope until she was in tears, so far gone she’d do anything.
But not today.
There was no time.
Lola reverted back to lapping at her clit with that broad steady pressure, the tempo better than any toy she’d ever had. It was maddening. It was heaven. She was drowning in a pool of her own longing.
Every touch of her tongue set off a chain reaction in her body until she was biting her lip just to stay quiet.
But the longer it went on, the less she cared about who was on the other side of the door.
Fire licked at her insides. Her thighs tightened as she fought to stay still beneath her wife’s nimble fucking tongue. After a while, she couldn’t stop herself from pressing into her mouth, greedy for the climax building with every pass.
Lola ate her like she was starving, like she was ice cream, dripping and sweet, until Calliope was panting, hips rolling as she tried to put the pressure just where she wanted it. But Lola never let her take control, forever steady as a metronome, letting Calliope only have what she was given.
Fuck. Fuck.
She couldn’t take much more. If they were alone, she would have been begging, pleading, offering up anything for Lola to just give her what she needed. Instead, she was holding it in. Her thighs were shaking, her body hot all over, but not from the shower or the steam of the bathroom, from Lola’s sensual torture.
But no matter how much she whined or whimpered or quietly begged, Lola’s tongue never faltered, not even as she slid three fingers inside, applying just the right pressure from all sides.
“Jesus Christ,” Calliope whispered, her hips grinding down against her will, her knee threatening to buckle. “Baby, please.”
She fought the scream climbing up her throat as Lola picked up the pace of her thrusts all the while never easing the relentless pressure on her clit.
“Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. How are you always so fucking good at this?” she asked, her voice climbing.
