And still, Bash doesn’t stop licking and teasing and sucking. I try to open my legs, and he squeezes them more tightly between his thighs.
He stops licking long enough to say, “I’m the boss, remember?”
“But…” But what? I don’t even know what protest I was trying to make.
Just when I think that my pussy can’t spasm any more than it already has, and my legs are going to twitch him right off the bed, he climbs off me and his tongue is in my mouth, and all I can taste is me.
My fingers entwine with his hair, and I suck his tongue like I’ve been starved of my own juices. Perhaps I have. How can I tell him that it’s the first time I ever tasted myself?
“There’s plenty more where that came from,” he says, pulling away, as if I spoke the words out loud.
“Do you taste what I taste?”
“If it tastes like honey, only sweeter, then yes.”
I feel the heat rise in my face, which is crazy when he has already seen me naked, and stuck his tongue between my legs. My orgasm is lingering, wanting more, and it’s obviously steering my thought process now too.
“Is it your turn?” Selfishly, I want him to say no. I’m not sure I have the energy to repay the favor, and my body is aching for more of what he already started.
“Tonight is all about you, baby.”
My legs open of their own accord now that he’s no longer sitting on them. “More, please.”
“Bossy.” He licks the freckles at the corner of my eye. “But I’m here for it.”
He isn’t lying. This time, he grips my thighs and pushes my knees towards my chest, raising my ass above the bed. He buries his face between my legs, and my orgasm rushes straight to the surface to greet him.
Again, and again, and again.
I’ve read all the clichés in romance novels and disregarded them as fiction. But I don’t know which way is up. There are stars spiraling around behind my eyelids. And my body is so limp that moving is beyond the realm of possibilities.
Bash doesn’t stand up to remove his boxers. His erection springs free and slaps between my legs, and my brain experiences a moment of panic.
“Holy cow.” I mean, my experience is undeniably limited, but even I know that logistically, that shouldn’t fit inside me.
He grins. “You still want it?”
“Yes.” I literally can’t take my eyes off it. Another fictional myth proved wrong; two in one night, perhaps I am still dreaming.
“You can take it, Remy.”
“You’re sure about that?”
“I have complete faith in you.”
I want to ask why, but I’ve noticed the tattoo on his iliac crest. A symbol. I reach out and trace the never-ending line with my fingertip.
“It’s a Triquetra,” he murmurs. “Just like your freckles.”
“Must be fate.”
“I don’t believe in fate.” He leans over me, grinding his erection against my sex.
I grip his shoulders. “But…?”
“But I’ll make an exception with you, baby.”
He kisses me long and hard, sharing his oxygen with me. I gasp when the head of his shaft nudges its way in, but he strokes my hair and nestles inside me as if it’s where he has always belonged.
