I nod, spreading my legs wider to give Kat complete access.
“Are you going to cum for me, Ollie?” Kat whispers, and it’s just about all I need to push me over the edge.
My orgasm detonates. It is a silent, violent rupture that tears through the center of me. My body bows, strained tight as a wire, every muscle locked in a paralyzing spasm. My cunt pulses around her invading fingers in frantic, fluttering waves, spilling my wetness over her hand.
She holds me through it, her hand a brutal gag, her fingers working me until the shocks become twitches, until the pleasure borders on pain. I go limp against the shelves, boneless and spent, held up only by her body pinning me.
Slowly, she withdraws her fingers, leaving me boneless and empty.
“Good girl,” she whispers, her voice raw with her own arousal. “I can’t wait to taste you for real. This will have to do for now.”
Kat’s wet fingers, glistening with me, rise to her mouth, her emerald eyes locked on mine in the pantry’s gloom. Her lips close around them with a soft, deliberate suck, a raw groan vibrating in her throat as she tastes my climax.
“You are fucking incredible,” I whisper, my voice frayed and thin.
The taste of me is still on her tongue when she kisses me, a dark and possessive claim. Neither of us speaks for a moment; we just breathe into the hush, letting the world shrinkto the warmth between us. My heart stutters, still chasing the aftershocks, and Kat’s gaze is heavy, possessive, as if she’s memorizing every detail of my undone state.
When she’s had her fill, she slides her hands down and helps pull my shorts up, her hands lingering, smoothing the fabric over my trembling thighs. Her forehead rests against mine, our breathing the only sound in the warm, flour-dusted dark.
“We should—” she begins, but the sharp, digital blare of her ringtone slices through the silence.
Kat’s entire body flinches like she’s been slapped.
“Shit,” she breathes, the word pure panic. Her eyes go wide, darting toward the sliver of light under the door.
“Let it go to voicemail,” I whisper, my voice still ragged, my fingers running up and down the soft skin of her hips.
“I can’t.” She pulls away, and the cold air rushes in where her body was. “It’s my mom. If I don’t answer, she’ll keep calling until I do.”
She’s already adjusting her shirt, her movements frantic.
She opens the pantry door, a blade of kitchen light cutting across my face. She turns to me as she slips out of the small room, her bottom lip sucked between her teeth.
I lean my head back against a shelf, the wood digging into my scalp. My legs feel useless, my thoughts scattered.
I take a minute, just one, to let my heart slow from its frantic hammering.
I straighten my clothes and run my hands through my tangled hair.
When I finally turn to leave, Vince is standing in the kitchen doorway, leaning against the frame, a knowing smile on his face.
“Hey,” I say nervously.
His smile widens as he steps toward me. “I can smell her pussy on you,” he says, leaning into my ear. “It’s very distracting.”
My tongue darts out over my lip as if I could lick away her scent from my face. He watches the motion, his dark eyes tracking the path of my tongue with an intensity that pins me to the spot.
His hand rises, and he runs his thumb along the curve of my bottom lip, a touch so deliberate it sends a message. He pulls back, holds my gaze, and slowly sucks the spit from his skin.
He winks.
Then he turns and leaves the pantry, the hinges giving a soft sigh behind him. I stare at the empty space where he stood, my lip burning where his finger had been.
I didn’t expect Vince to be mad, considering he set up this booty call himself, but I also didn’t expect him to be so…nonchalant about it.
He tasted her on me like he knew she would be there.
That’s somehow more terrifying than if he were upset that he was right.
