So, I take charge, hungering for those fantasies to come to life, nerves forgotten.
“Then open your pretty mouth and get to work, sweetheart.” The command falls from my lips, rough and needy. “Get it nice and wet for me.”
And fuck, does she listen beautifully.
My hips gently thrust forward, gliding over her tongue. She likes that, me using her for my pleasure. Her thighs spread wide, and she hums around me, eyes sparkling with moisture.
Our gazes remain locked as my movements become harsher. When my spine tingles, I slow. She senses me pulling away and grips my bare ass to take me to the back of her throat, telling me exactly where she intends me to finish.
I almost black out.
The noise, the fucking goddamn noise, of hergagging is the single sexiest sound in existence, an apparition plucked straight from the filthiest corners of my imagination.
She keeps at it, swallowing around me, using my hips to keep herself balanced.
My abs clench when her hand moves to cup my balls.
“I’m going to come,” I gasp. “Shit, I’m going to come.”
Three sharp thrusts are all it takes for me to paint her tongue. White hot pleasure sparks every nerve ending, funneling through my veins and heating my blood. There’s no containing the carnal noises rumbling up my chest.
She drinks down every drop until I’m wrung dry.
When she pulls away, I take my first real breath. It’s shaky, and the thumping of my heart feels different.
With her pinky and thumb, she cleans the edges of her mouth, smile dangerous.
“That was…”
“Fun,” she finishes.
I drop to my knees, desperate to taste myself and tear the dress from her. Her moan is sweet when I slant our mouths together.
She gasps when a rip tears through the air. She breaks the kiss and stares at where her frayed bodice hangs open, revealing her white lace bra.
“I’ll give you a shirt.” I lower my mouth to her cleavage, inhaling the saccharine scent of her skin. “Fucking hell, take my entire wardrobe if it means you’ll give me a taste.”
SEVEN
HARRIET
There areseveral reasons I prefer to date older men, one being they’re usually more experienced. Guys my age lack a certain finesse in the bedroom. It could explain why my relationship with Peter in the bedroom was unfortunate. It took a GPS device, a compass, and the position of the sun to help him find the clit.
Oh, and he was a cheating scumbag.
When Warren and I stumbled into the motel room, uncertainty flashed across his face. Maybe he wasn’t as into it as me. Then, I recognized it for what it really was: nerves.
Without a backstory, there’s no knowing where it stems from, and this evening wasn’t about finding out. Instead, I offered him an olive branch in the form of bedroom kinks, which he accepted graciously.
Now, my throat is raw, lips swollen, and skin flushed to perfection.
Warren might have hesitated at first, but the man certainly needed little encouragement to take charge once given the green light.
My boots don’t get the chance to touch the floor before I’m tipping backward, the springs of the lumpy mattress creaking as I land with a soft thud. Then, he’s there, large, naked body covering mine. The coarse hairs on his chest tickle my exposed breasts, and his length sits hot and heavy between my thighs.
The dress is already in tatters, his movements not gentle as he unties the strings of my bodice, yanking the remaining scraps of material off until I’m in only my underwear. He kneels between my spread thighs, gripping the scratchy comforter until his knuckles turn white.
His untamed eyes trek over every inch of my body.
