Evan’s tongue circled my clit. He focused on it until I was hot and ready for his cock. But he didn’t give it to me. Instead, there was only lick after maddening lick. Evan set such a powerful rhythm that my legs were aching, the pressure inside me building up and only getting more and more intense.
His tongue did most of the heavy lifting, but his hands were hardly idle. He was fingerfucking me in perfect unison to his licks on my clit. The heat inside me was growing hotter, stronger. I tried to stay standing, but even as my legs grew weak, he was there to hold me up.
I grabbed for his hair, riding his face as he brought me closer to the edge. Even as the heights of the orgasm crept over me and were about to wonderfully ravage my body, I couldn’t help but imagine more. I wanted him naked; I wanted to see his thick, perfect cock; I wanted him on top of me, claiming me, filling me.
I bit my lip, wanting to draw this out a little longer. I was also determined to avoid screaming for him. I didn’t want to give Evan the satisfaction. The moans were inevitable though. The orgasm was coming at me like a train, and I was standing there cluelessly as it was going to run me over.
All of it hit me at once. Every bit of heat pulsed through my body. My legs were completely jelly, and if I hadn’t been supported by Evan’s hands, I’d have collapsed on the floor. My back was bent, my arms tense, and my head tipped back, my bare tits heaving in the air.
Evan was there, holding me, still licking, wringing as much pleasure as he could manage out of the act. Mercifully—or perhaps not—he stopped. He stood up and left me lying half-limp out on the table, my tits out, my panties askew, and everything a bit overly sweaty.
I breathed hard as Evan regarded me. He was cool and calm.
“I hope you enjoyed your preview. Next time, you will scream my name.”
30
Ivy
“You did what?” Brea shrieked when I told her.
“Shhh!” I hissed at her as I helped her carry the surprisingly heavy lace wedding gown into the dressing room at the boutique bridal shop. That was another one-day-but-probably-won’t-ever-happen dream—to have our own Weddings in the City bridal boutique. Currently, we were partnered with a company in Manhattan.
“You have to tell me all the deets!” Brea said excitedly. “Spill!Now! Was he good? Was it huge? Was it the best sex of your life?”
“Amazing,” I said, blushing when I thought about it. “Though I don’t know how big he is exactly.”
Brea blinked then gave me a knowing look.
“Ah. He didn’t have any comments about how you smell, did he?” Brea asked in concern.
“I smell?” I said in horror.
“No, no!” Brea said. “Or at least I hope you don’t. Have you checked things down there lately?”
Had I?
“No?”
“Hmm. You haven’t eaten any garlic, have you?”
“I’ve been eating a lot of Italian food lately. Shoot, is that bad?” I chewed on my lip.
“Hopefully, he didn’t notice. Though maybe that’s why he didn’t go all the way,” Brea said.
I wanted to check and make sure that I didn’t smell, but Imogen and her family had arrived. With the way Evan was looking at me, my pussy had decided it wanted another round, but I was freaked out by Brea’s comment.
Was that why he didn’t bend me over and fuck me like he kept promising? Do I smell? Can people smell me?
I tried to cool off by uncorking one of the complimentary bottles of champagne. It was sitting in a sterling silver ice bucket, but the cold did little to quell the lust the sight of Evan stirred in me.
You need to cut him off, I scolded myself as I peeled off the foil on the bottle top.
“Need any help?” Evan murmured in my ear. I jumped, and one of his large hands on my hip steadied me.
“I—”
He took the bottle from me, his warm fingers brushing against my cold ones. He deftly untwisted the wire, the cork popped, and he twisted the bottle, motioning for me to hold up one of the glass flutes.
