She tucked her chin into her chest. “Do you… like it?”
“Do I like it? You’re killing me, woman.”
“I don’t know.” She pulled her t-shirt over her head. The sight of her tits struck him like it was the first time, but it was the look on her face, all sweet and sly, that slayed him.
“You’re fucking beautiful, KitKat.”
She stopped smiling and looked at him with something close to desperation. “Come here? Please?”
“Soon.” He fell to his knees at the foot of his bed, grabbed her ankles, and pulled her closer. He wanted to see her pussy. To kiss it. To be close to it in the way he hadn’t managed when he was playing the big man in the motel room. He eased Cheryl’s legs apart and saw she was wearing a g-string, the patch between her legs already shining. He groaned. “Tell me I can?”
Her fingers found his hair, raising goosebumps across his scalp. “You don’t have to…”
Be he wanted to. Right then, he wanted to more than he wanted to have sex. He pulled her g-string down as slowly as his fingers would allow. Cheryl’s mouth fell open, a sugary O. “Patrick…”
“I know.”
He licked her gently. She tasted clean and soft and salty-sweet. He kept going, moving experimentally, trying to find what would make her feel good. When he pressed his tongue to her clit she made a noise like she’d started crying again.
He pulled back. “You okay?”
“Yes. No. It’s too much. Too good. It feels like…”
“What?”
When she spoke, it was so quiet it was barely sound. “… like you love me.”
It was a moment so perfect he couldn’t have dreamed it. An ending he’d have waited a hundred years to claim. He looked down at her pink cunt, flushed and shining, and could barely believe it was real. “You want me to stop?”
“Yes. I mean no. I want to. It feels so good.”
He lowered his mouth back to her pussy and pressed his tongue flat against her clit. Cheryl whimpered, tugging at his hair. “Patrick?”
He lifted his tongue. “This better be good.”
“Sorry, I just… I can’t let guys do this until I finish.”
Patrick frowned, thinking back to the motel. He’d eaten her out until she’d come then. “You couldn’t,” he corrected. “Until me.”
“But—”
“What’s your safeword?”
“Buddy.”
“Then unless you say ‘buddy’ I’m gonna keep going down on you. And you can come if you want, or you can just take it. I don’t give a fuck. This is for me.”
He buried his head and licked her, a little harder and faster than before. He’d keep her on her toes, too busy to think about what she could or couldn’t do in bed. Soon her hands were tight in his hair. He put his tongue inside her tiny channel and pulsed slowly, tasting heaven, and she screamed like she had in the motel. “Patrick!”
She was going to come, he could feel it. He returned his tongue to her clit and slid a finger inside her, feeling her clench. She bucked against his sheets, calling his name.
“That’s it,” he said, pumping slowly. “Who just made you come, baby?”
“You! Patrick!” Her eyes found his. “Be inside me. Please?”
It wasn’t something he had to think about. He shoved down his briefs and rose. He lay on top of her, and their mouths met as her thighs locked around his hips. Years of waiting melted to nothing as she gripped his cock, pressing it between her legs.
He pushed onto his palms, holding himself in place as he looked in her eyes, making sure.
