“You’re exquisite,” I say into her belly.
She hums in response.
I pull her pants and panties down, all the way to the floor, and I am faced with something that brings tears to my eyes and a quiet, very masculine whimper. I clear my throat, press my thumb against her exposed, glossy clit, and say through a clenched jaw, “Have you always shaved everything down here?”
“Since I was a teenager,” she says softly. I can hear the sauciness returning to her tone. “To prevent unsightly hairs from poking out of my leotards.”
“I’m glad I didn’t know this until now. I wouldn’t have passed any classes at MIT. I’d be serving burgers at a drive-through window right now.” I lift her feet up out of her pants and underwear and then bend her right leg up to hook it over my shoulder.
“I doubt it. You wouldn’t last five minutes in the hospitality industry.”
She gets a smack on the ass for that.
I can practically feel the electricity that shoots up her spine as she gasps and jerks her body the tiniest bit.
I’ve lost track of time.
There is so much I want to do with this body in front of me, but I will stay focused on the task at hand.
I lick and bite her inner thigh and then suck on her clit. A bold move up front, but she’s ready for it. She sucks in a breath, tensing all over, and weaves the fingers of one hand through my hair on an exhale. Massaging my scalp as I kiss her sweet center. She is tilting her pelvis up, bracing herself. Just as the gentle, hypnotic swirl of my tongue lulls her into complacency and she relaxes into it with a gentle rocking of her hips, I grab her ass and start fucking her with my tongue. Relentlessly. She yelps, swears under her breath, leans against the barre, and grasps at my head with both hands.
There are yeses of encouragement,oh Gods that sound furious. There are protests of too much and silences followed by quaking limbs. I give her ass another smack, and it makes her gasp and tighten and quiver.
She jerks and bucks against my face. It is not graceful, but it is so hot. It is slippery and glorious, and I would spend hours and days here if I could. She lets out another high-pitched squeal, covers her mouth, and cries out into her hands. If I weren’t doing this to her, if I heard this muffled scream, I would be afraid for her.
But I’m excited for both of us because this is just the beginning.
My tongue doesn’t rest until Olivia’s body has gone limp. I help her to the ground so she can lean back against the mirror while she catches her breath. I savor the taste of her, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. I help her back into her panties and joggers, lean in, and press the side of my face against the side of hers to say, “You are a fucking delicious goddess, and I’m going to make you feel even better next time.”
Her rubbery neck sways, and she’s probably saying all kinds of sassy things in her head, but they aren’t making it to her mouth. She hasn’t opened her eyes yet. She sighs and hums and smacks her lips together.
“Are you all right?”
She makes a squeaky laughing kind of sound and nods once. It looks like she’s using all of her strength to lift her heavy eyelids. “What the hell did you do to me, Nerdballs?”
“You got Nerdballed. Hard.”
It takes her hormone-flooded brain a few seconds to register what I just said before her eyes widen and she bursts out laughing. Her body is still limp, but at least that woke her up.
Standing, I ask, “You ready to get up?”
“Not yet.”
“Okay.” I look at myself in the mirror, straighten myself up, try to make some sense of my hair. Then I cross the room and pick up my eyeglasses by the chair near the door.
“I’m going to keep Iris and the tailor busy for a few minutes while you pull yourself together. Iris got your measurements from the seamstress at the Bay Area Ballet so she could purchase some formal dresses that you probably wouldn’t choose for yourself. They are chic. They are expensive. And you deserve them, so please accept the ones you like best and wear them to the events you’ll be attending with me.”
Before she can ask me how the hell Iris got in touch with the seamstress for her ballet company, I add, “Iris knows everyone. She’s terrifying. You’ll love her. I’ll have Richard drive you home after you’re done with your fitting, okay?”
Olivia almost pouts, catches herself, and then frowns at me.
That’s my girl.
“I have a lot of meetings this afternoon and tomorrow. You should go home and pack, get ready for our trip.”
She blinks. Probably because she doesn’t have the energy to nod yet.
“Seriously, are you going to be okay?”
