Elbows planted on either side of her, I move down, but she halts me again, this time with her knees, trapping me between them.
“Here next,” she says, teeth sinking into her smile as she points a little higher. Her rib cage. Away from what I want.
I kiss there too.
Then the next location, just below her breasts.
She tugs off the shirt, dark pink nipples tight, tits upright and waiting, inches from my lips.
Blood rushes to my dick and saliva floods my mouth. I could spend all day doing this. Touching her. Dragging my tongue over her soft skin. It pebbles as I caress her hips, then waist, then higher. I move to take her perfect little peaks between my teeth, but she points above them.
“Grace,” I say again. This time my tone is desperate. Pleading.
She simply smiles and tilts her head back, tapping her collarbone.
I kiss there too. Another, hungry, wet kiss. When I slide my tongue up her neck, she lets out a small gasp and wraps her legs around me.
With a grunt, I clamp my hand around her throat and take her mouth with mine.
Kissing Grace is a hell of a fucking drug. Those lips, her mouth, the way her tongue moves against mine. I’ve been fixated on it for fucking days.
Groaning, I grab at her ass and pull her closer, grinding my painfully hard cock between her legs as I devour her.
Just as I’m about to push her panties to the side, she stills and pulls back, that fucking smile painted on her face again, and then points between her breasts.
“Here, Decker,” she says.
Fuck this fucking game.
Focus fixed on the spot, I don’t move, but neither does she. She simply waits. Finally, I dip low and kiss the soft skin over her sternum.
Laughing, she points a couple of inches lower. Then again, lower. Lower. Top of her thighs. The tattoo. One black flower,then another. She arches her back as I run a trail of scorching kisses over the inky lines towards the apex of her thighs, following where she directs me.
“Gracie,” I whisper, voice cracking. My fucking hands shake as I hover at the edge of her panties, my mouth millimetres from its prize. This close, I can smell her, see the wetness drenching the purple fabric. “Don’t make me beg.”
She pushes up and rakes her hands through my hair, tugging me closer, lips to my ear. “I couldmake you, though, couldn’t I?”
I swallow. Yeah. Grace could make me do just about anything night now. “Yes.”
“Then do it. Beg me for it. Say ‘Grace, can I please eat your pussy? Can you please come on my face?Pleeeaaaase?’”
Without a thought, I repeat it like a fucking prayer. My fingers hooking in the waistband of her panties, tugging them down.
“Tell me you need it,” she whispers, nipping at my earlobe, her breath tickling my neck.
I push her back against the cushions and jerk her legs open.
Her smooth pussy fucking drips for me. Splayed out, ready for what I want to give her.
“Need isn’t the fucking word for it.” Without waiting for another prompt, I roughly tug her ass forward and dive between her legs.
Her whole body jerks the moment I make contact, her moans breathy and desperate, her nails scratching at my scalp, fingers pulling my hair, forcing my face against her pussy like she needs to come as much as I need to make her.
Her body shudders, her hips grinding against my mouth as I slide my tongue over every delicious part of her, twirling around her clit, lapping up her wetness. She tastes fucking perfect. But it’s more than that. It’s how her body responds to my touch, the way it moves, the little quiver, the moan she tries to swallow. I’vebarely gotten started, and she’s already close, her clit needy and swollen. Like she went to bed as horny as I did.
I wanted to torture her. Tease her. Make her sob and beg for release. I wanted to savour this. But I’m starving. The need to feel her pleasure on my mouth, tongue, on my entire fucking face, is too much. I need Grace to come. Right fucking now.
I slide in a finger, and then two, curling them, searching for that perfect spot right—she lets out a loud gasp, her back arching, legs opening just a little wider—yeah, that spot.
