“Come home with me tonight and stay with me,” he asks, and I am unsure how I feel about that.
I have enjoyed him being here with me, in my space. His flat is luxury in the extreme, but the idea of being confined with him in his space scares me.
“We’ll go later, have dinner and a bath and then we can lie in my big bed and watch some TV and I’ll make you feel really good,” he says and encourages an affirmative answer by sweeping his finger along my length at the same time that his tongue sweeps up my inner thigh.
“Oh God.” My legs are beginning to tremble in anticipation.
“Say yes Olivia,” he urges as a finger gently rims my wet core that I can feel is moistening further with every word, movement and second that passes.
My response is a stifled groan followed by a second finger joining his first which just makes me attempt to squat down.
“Oh, no, no, no,” he chastens using his free hand to push my pelvis back against the wall where he then lays an arm across it. “No riding my hand until you’re coming. I’m going to lick you in a moment, slowly, so, so slowly,” he tells me, and I am sure I can feel my arousal gushing from me. “Once I have licked you, I am going to flick my tongue over your clit, would you like that?”
“Yes, yes, please, please, Mase, please.”
His expression is beyond victorious now.
“I think I will have to circle it with the tip of my tongue.”
I am sure I feel the sensation at his words alone before he withdraws his wet fingers from me and uses them to circle my clit.
“Fuck, fuck. That feels so good.” I reach down to grab a handful of hair for no reason I understand. “Please, do it for me now and later I’ll come home with you,” I agree, too easily I am sure but I am past caring, especially when I feel Mase’s tongue doing exactly as he’d described; a long, slow sweep followed by him attentively arousing and stimulating my clit and then he is probing my leaking core with his tongue, literally fucking me with it.
My hands are still full of his hair and I am unsure how much longer I’ll be able to remain standing as his glorious assault on my body and senses continues.
“So fucking tasty, Livy,” he tells me as he sweeps along my length once more.
I am sure he is growing limbs because I am being held up and touched all at the same time. The sudden sensation of fullness hits me and I realise that he has reinserted his fingers that are pumping in and out of me rapidly.
“Oh God,” I cry again, thinking that blasphemy and the use of the word fuck are becoming my things. “Like that, yes,” I encourage, not that Mase needs my encouragement or input. “Nobody has ever made me feel like this,” I tell him in the certain knowledge that his vanity is only going to be increased by this kind of praise.
“And nobody ever will,” he whispers against my clit that he stops abrading briefly. “Come on, baby. I can feel it, now let me hear it,” he tells me before drawing the whole of my clit and the pulsating flesh around it into his mouth whilst still pumping his fingers in and out of my oversensitive flesh that is sore from all the attention it has received over the last few days and with no further warning I am coming undone in a pool of sweat and arousal as I call his name.
My body is quaking from the inside out, my legs have turned to jelly and can no longer hold me up while my hands remain buried in Mase’s hair, tugging the strands while keeping him close. I am unsure how he manages it but somehow, he guides me down the wall until I am lying on the floor cocooned by his body that is pulling me in, holding me close, soothing me, loving me.
Chapter 17
Mason
My thought had been that once I had accommodated Olivia’s need to be fucked by my mouth that we would move this on, somewhere more comfortable like the bed where I could make love to her. Although, that would suggest gentle and calm which I am probably incapable of, but she’s virtually collapsed and fallen into a comatose state following her climax and as much as I would like to claim that as proof of my sexual prowess even I am not that fucking egotistical, not quite.
That was something more than just me, even something more than just Olivia, who by her own admission has never been made to feel like it feels between us. It’s wonderful and magical, something beyond special and I don’t believe this is something that just happens between two random people. We have a connection that runs deeper than—than what? Than everything I have ever known before the night I set eyes on her, when something went off inside me.
My dick is hard and painful as I run my hand across it while standing over Olivia sleeping in bed, but I won’t wake her up, not yet, so I will need to take care of it myself, in the bathroom. Leaning down I kiss her forehead gently and pull the covers up over her shoulders that are bare courtesy of that fucking underwear that’s still fairly dishevelled but definitely something she needs more of.
I close the bathroom door behind me, not bothering to lock it because apart from anything else that would only waste valuable seconds and I am too hard and in need to delay this. Slumping against the wall I unfasten my jeans quickly, then push them down with my boxers as far as my thighs and take my throbbing dick in hand.
Slowly, I stroke myself, knowing that this is going to be a bittersweet experience; bitter that I am doing this for myself, sweet since I am in this state because of Olivia, bitter due to the fact that I am in actual physical pain because of my state of arousal and I anticipate my release being torturously painful, yet sweet knowing I will be thinking of Olivia as I come and hopefully the ache in my groin will dissipate.
My closed fist is pumping a little more firmly, faster and more purposefully. Throwing my head back with my eyes closed my focus is on the job literally in hand so I don’t see any movement around me, nor hear anything, so it isn’t until a hand closes over my own that I am aware of having company. My eyes shoot open to find Olivia standing before me.
“Hey,” she says as her hand continues to move over my larger one. “Show me,” she whispers. “How you like it.”
“Baby.” What I am doing is quite evident, so an explanation is pretty pointless.
“Ssh, show me, please. Let me make it up to you. I kind of forgot about you before,” she says referring to her almost passing out with her own pleasure.
I say nothing. There’s nothing to say. I bear no resentment toward her for forgetting about me. The fact the she was so delirious on the sensations and feelings I was able to initiate and elicit from her body that she virtually passed out more than make up for me taking care of myself.
