“It’s you. It’s just you. It’s always you.”
That was all it took. There was no more teasing after that, no more hesitation. He just pushed his face between her legs, tongue lapping firm and insistent over her taut bud. One stroke, two, three and she was there, back arching, body shuddering, moans jammed tight against the bars of her gritted teeth. In the middle of it she might have even reached back to grab his head, forcing him to keep going and going.
Not that she needed to. He carried on licking long after the point where she couldn’t take it—just like before, only so, so much more. Now it was completely unbearable and completely incredible at the same time, cramming more and more pleasure into her until she was sure there couldn’t be room for anything else. That was it, that was all, and then he fucked two fingers into her tightly clenched pussy again andfuck fuck fuck.
She made a mess of his face. She knew she did; she felt it running down her thighs.
She saw it on him when he stood, all of it gleaming on his lips and chin.
Though she soon forgot about it, in light of the words he fumbled out. They were broken, those words, stuttered and too desperate—but all the better for it. “Is it okay to finish in your mouth?” he asked.
And she didn’t even hesitate.
She was on her knees in front of him before he’d even finished speaking, hands shaky but capable on his bared cock. The cock he must have been stroking as he licked her. The cock that stuck out like a a fist, swollen and slippery with pre-come, so ready to burst that she barely had to put a hand on him before it jerked and shot the first streamer of liquid over her lips. She had to quickly part them around that thick head to catch the rest, sucking and licking in an effort to make it as good for him as it had been for her.
Though she didn’t need to.
His moans were high and desperate and much too loud, punctuated with the kind of praise she could have come over. “Good girl, get me off, take it, take my hot load,” he groaned, barely sensible of what he was saying but all the better for it. She would remember those words forever, in every fuck session she participated in from then on. Other guys might come and go, but nothing would ever be sweeter than this:
Tate Sullivan saying the filthiest things, and turning them into bliss.
Chapter 17
She wanted to say something to him on the way back to her dorm. Something lighthearted, maybe, or at the very least grateful. But when she went to speak, nothing came out. Her lungs were suddenly full of sawdust and simply couldn’t supply the necessary air. She could barely even lift her feet to take the next step, in truth. Every part of her was limp and weak, from her noodle arms to her rubbery legs.
And as for her face…
She knew how it looked. She made an effort to keep her expression neutral, but failed on every conceivable level. Her mouth just refused to close. The distraught frown wouldn’t leave her face. All her features were set to shell-shocked, and nothing could change that.
It was the only possible response to everything he had done.
And all the things he had said.
Since the stairwell,she thought.
But it only made her dazed expression worse. By the time they got to her door she felt as though she’d just staggered through the rubble of a postapocalyptic wasteland. Her hair was sticking up on one side where she’d worried at it. Her eyes seemed to be staring far too intently at every single thing about him. And when she finally got words out, they were not the ones she had intended.
Play it cool,her mind insisted.
But her mouth had her other ideas.
“Do you want to come inside?”
Of course she immediately realized her mistake. His answering expression said it all. A grin stuttered across his face, followed by an excruciatingly disbelieving laugh. It was the one he used to aim at her when she tried to do something outside her wheelhouse—something cool maybe—and it made her flush all over just like it had then. It made her want to correct him:no, I didn’t mean for more sex.
Only it was too late to clarify. Much too late.
“I would love to, but I really got to get some sleep.”
“Oh right, yeah, absolutely.”
“My wake up call’s, like, six thirty.”
“No, you don’t have to explain, it’s cool.”
She tried to laugh like he had as she turned to put her key in the lock, but it didn’t come out right. Her voice was too hollow, her amusement too tinged with that raw, red embarrassment. And it got worse the longer he just stood there. Why was he just standing there? He was supposed to go now.
Instead, he seemed to have gotten closer.
