"I need to fuck you so badly," I slurred, my voice thick and heavy as I shifted my weight, looming over her.
I unbuttoned her dress shirt, revealing a simple tank top underneath. No bra, just soft skin and heat. I felt drunk on lust, my brain was misfiring, unable to complete a single coherent thought that didn't involve her.
"Do you now?" Kelsey asked, gripping my hair to force my gaze to meet hers for what felt like the hundredth time that night. That look alone was enough to make my legs part instinctively.
I moistened my lips and slid my hand down the flat of her abdomen.
"I need it like my life depends on it," I whispered, pressing my mouth against hers. I let out a low moan when she tightened her hold on my hair. "I need to fuck my woman."
"Are you going to take what you want?" she challenged, her voice a low vibration.
"Uh-huh," I breathed, feeling my body contract in anticipation as she bit my lip.
"Then will you taste every drop?"
I looked deep into her eyes and offered her a wide, confident smile. "Every single drop."
I ran my hand under the hem of her shirt, sliding it past the lace of her underwear. I found her exactly as I expected: aching and soaked. "May I?" I questioned.
"You should," she answered.
It had been a long time since I’d taken the lead, but as I drove two fingers deep into her, I knew that dry spell was officially over. Kelsey moaned against my mouth, arching her body to meet mine, pulling me down until I was completely draped over her.
She tasted like whiskey and the cold night air. Moving inside her felt like a blur of heat and friction, where the only sound in the universe was her moans escaping into the room.
She ground herself against my fingers. In response, I increased the force and pace of my thrusts. I could feel beads of sweat dripping from my forehead, cooling against the heat of our skin.
I leaned down, dragging my tongue across her skin before pulling her tank top lower. I grazed the tip of my teeth over her nipple, biting down just enough to hear her gasp.
Every time I drove my fingers deep into her and bit her in tandem, I watched her eyes roll back. Her focus was shattering. Her breathing turned labored—heavy, jagged lungfuls of air.
Her entire body began to tremble under the pressure. She tensed every muscle against my hand, bracing herself, but then she did something that drove me mad: she let out a low, defiant laugh against my lips, holding herself back, stubbornly denying herself the very orgasm she was begging for.
"You said you wouldn't waste a drop, Kitty," she reminded me, her voice a low, commanding rasp.
As I was still tracing the heat of her skin with my tongue, I met her gaze. I slowly withdrew my hand from her lace.
"Now, kneel. I want you to taste me properly," she ordered.
And I obeyed. I knelt between her thighs as she settled back against the sofa, spreading herself wide in a silent, regal demand.
Before my lips could even brush her skin, she reached out and slapped me—a sharp, stinging strike that made my head snap to the side.
"Please, Reenaa," I whispered, the sting only fueling the fire in my blood.
I bit my lower lip and looked up at her, smiling through the heat. She held my face with her free hand, her pupils so dilated they nearly swallowed the green of her irises.
She gave a single, curt nod of consent, her grip softening just enough to let me lean in.
I explored every inch of her, my tongue moving in relentless, circular strokes. I drank in her curses and her encouragement, each word a gasoline pour on my own desire.
I dug my nails into her abdomen, marking her skin as I ground my hips against the floor. The friction on my own body was driving me toward the edge.
If I ever thought it was impossible to reach a climax simply by giving one, it was because I had never tasted Kelsey. She moaned, a raw and beautiful sound, as she pressed my head firmly against her.
When she finally broke, I reached my limit in tandem. I moaned and writhed against her, never ceasing the rhythm of my mouth. Not a single drop touched the sofa. I would never waste her.
My woman.
