Fuck. The words send a jolt of pure, unfiltered lust straight to my core, but it’s not enough. I want more. Ineedmore.
“Are you asking me, or are you telling me?”
She grunts in frustration, her fingers curling into the fabric of my crop top.
“Ollie! Shut up and eat my pussy until I cum all over this beautiful face.”
Yeah, that will do it.
“Good kitty,” I praise, shoving her thighs apart, baring her completely to me.
Her pussy glistens, swollen and pink, her clit peeking out from beneath its hood, begging for my teeth. I don’t tease or hesitate. I drop to my knees and bury my fucking face in her.
The first taste is seismic. Sweet and intoxicating.
I run my tongue from her entrance to her clit and back again.
A choked sob escapes Kat, her hips bucking off the table. I hold her down, flattening my hand against her lower stomach, pressing down as I suck her clit between my teeth.
“Oh my god!” She arches off the table with a shattered cry. “Ollie!” Her hands fist in my hair, and the sting makes my own pussy throb in appreciation.
I feast on her, rotating between sucking her clit into my mouth, fucking her with my tongue, and drinking every desperate sound she makes.
I can’t stop. Not until her thighs are trembling around my ears. I can feel her getting closer, the way her muscles tense and her breath comes in sharp, desperate gasps. I don’t let up. I can’t. I need to feel her fall apart on my tongue.
I slide two fingers inside her, curling them until I find the spot that makes her scream.
My tongue flicks her clit in time with my fingers. Her back arches off the old wood, a strangled cry tearing from her throat.
“Right there! Oh, fuck, Ollie, right there!”
I don’t let up. I press my tongue hard against her clit as my fingers pump deep, curling and uncurling inside her with a wet, rhythmic sound that’s music to my ears. My mouth is everywhere—sucking her lips, lapping at her entrance, biting the inside of her thigh when she bucks too wildly.
“Yes!” she sobs, her hands scrambling against the wood, nails scraping for purchase. “More, please!”
“Since you asked so nicely,” I tease, adding a third finger. The stretch makes her gasp, her inner muscles fluttering wildly around the intrusion.
I fuck her with deep, steady strokes, my knuckles pressing against her each time I sink in. My own need is a frantic, throbbing pulse between my legs, my jeans soaked and uncomfortable, but I ignore it. This is about her. About wrecking her completely.
“Look at me,” I command, not stopping my rhythm.
Her orgasm crashes through her violently. A scream, sharp and ragged, rips from her chest as her body seizes. Her thighsclamp around my head, her heels digging into my back as she rides the waves. She’s so fucking tight, her pussy fluttering in frantic, overwhelmed pulses.
I keep fucking her through it, prolonging it, drinking every cry and whimper until she’s limp and shuddering, pushing weakly at my head.
I slowly withdraw my fingers, bringing them to my mouth and sucking them clean, never breaking eye contact. Her taste is addictive. I stand, my knees protesting, and lean over her, bracing my hands on the table on either side of her head.
She looks utterly ruined. Sweat dampens her hairline, her lips are swollen, and a flush paints her chest. Her eyes are dark pools of satisfied haze.
“Hi,” I whisper, a smirk pulling at my mouth.
A slow, dazed smile spreads across her face. “Hi.”
Her hands are on my belt, fumbling with the buckle. Her movements are clumsy but determined. “My turn,” she says, her voice husky and raw. “I want to feel you. All of you.”
The button of my jeans pops open. The zipper rasp is loud in the quiet room. Her fingertips slide beneath the waistband of my panties, and I stop breathing, waiting for the moment her fingers touch my pussy for the first time.
A distant sound cuts through the haze—the distinct crunch of gravel under tires out on the drive.
