And then she licks me, her tongue dipping ever so slightly into my pussy before sliding up, parting my folds until her tongue ring presses against my clit. I nearly shoot off the bed from the contact. I’m already so damn desperate and Ivy knows it because she circles my swollen clit with her tongue twice and then does something I never could have imagined.
She wraps her lips around the bud and sucks hard, like I’m an extra-thick milkshake and she’s trying to get to all the good stuff at the bottom. I slap a hand over my mouth to muffle my scream and squeeze my eyes shut. This has to be what all those women in movies and in romance books are talking about when they say getting eaten out is a religiousexperience. I’ve always felt like I was nothing more than a freezer-burnt orange popsicle someone was reluctantly pretending to enjoy. I knew I was in the minority, but I never could have imagined it would feel this fucking good.
Ivy worships my pussy with her tongue and her lips, gliding me across her face to get me exactly where she wants me at any given time. Her tongue ring is just as wicked and delicious as I thought it would be, rubbing me in exactly the right ways. She’s only been down there for a minute, and already I’m teetering on the edge just like she promised. And when she does the sucking thing again, this time humming so that my clit is assaulted by vibration and sensation, I’m a fucking goner. I try my best to hold on, to make it last, but it’s no use.
One hand grips the sheets next to me while the other pushes at the back of Ivy’s head, like if I let go I might fall off the face of the planet. The orgasm that shakes through my body is violent, volcanic, a supernova that explodes from my pussy and travels through every nerve from the tips of my toes to the hair on my head. I bite my lip and thrash as wave after wave of pleasure rolls through me like an earthquake, each peak followed by an aftershock that I’m sure might actually kill me. The taste of copper fills my mouth and I realize I’ve drawn blood from mybottom lip, but that’s better than screaming and waking up my kid with my carnal sounds of pleasure. My orgasm seems to last forever and I’m almost relieved when it starts to subside and I can take a full breath again. Ivy finally unlatches herself from where she’s been gently nursing on my pulsing clit, and I melt into the mattress, boneless and ready to let the afterglow carry me away.
But then I feel two fingers spearing inside of me, crooking and pressing against my inner walls before my body fully relaxes from my climax, and my hips fly off the mattress. Ivy drags her fingers against my G-spot twice before a second orgasm tears through me, shorter and sharper than the first. The breath steals from my lungs, the sound of Ivy’s fingers fucking in and out of my soaking wet pussy filling the room like a dirty symphony. Neither of them says a thing as I shake like a leaf. I couldn’t form words if I tried, and Ivy is too concentrated on her own tasks. She watches me like a predator stalking her prey, and when she deems it time, she strikes again.
She hits me with a one-two punch, fucking me with her fingers while flicking my oversensitive clit with just the tip of her tongue. I think I hear myself babbling something like, “I can’t, it’s too much, fuck, Ivy, yes, no, more,” but who knows if that’s real or a figment of my blissed out imagination.
I feel myself shivering uncontrollably, feel her touch everywhere. I can’t stop moving, wiggling, rubbing my body all over Ivy and the mattress. I’m desperate for touch and relief, for satisfaction, for a reprieve from hypersensitivity and also more, more,more.
Ivy’s free hand presses gently on my low belly, and that’s enough to bring at least one of my brain cells back online. The movement puts pressure on my bladder, which is already sitting under the pressure of a mango-sized little bean all day. The too-full feeling builds, and I buck, frantically gasping at Ivy that I’m going to pee on her face if she doesn’t let up.
But Ivy only arches a sweaty brow at me before adding a third finger and an extra ounce of pressure to my low belly. I’m so damn embarrassed, but it feels too good to stop. I’m lost in the sauce and there’s not stopping the freight train that is my third orgasm from barreling out of me. So even though I’m sure I’m about to turn this sex party into a water sports situation, I allow myself to succumb to the pleasure.
The orgasm swallows me whole, gushing out of me like a waterfall. The sounds of Ivy’s merciless fingering and licking get louder and sloppier, and it’s only when I’ve managed to choke out a breath that I realize that while the sheets beneath me are soaked,my bladder is still full and I’m an idiot who needs to trust the expert between my legs.
Because, of course, I didn’t just pee all over Ivy. She coaxed the elusive squirting orgasm out of me, something I once thought was an urban legend or a film trick by the world’s porno studios.
Turns out it is very real and can knock a woman right off her metaphorical feet.
Ivy wipes the back of her hand over her mouth, then presses a kiss to the inside of my thigh.
“You want more, Lilah baby?”
Oh, I am most definitely going to die tonight.
What a way to go.
18
A FUCKING NATURAL
IVY
I wake up in that sort of still-half-asleep state where my body has entered the real world but my mind is still holding on to the dream it was enjoying before my REM cycle was interrupted. Behind my closed eyes, I’m still laying in a strawberry field, watching the sunset as three figures—an adult with long, curly hair and two small children with pigtails and dirt on their bare feet—dance in a circle, laughing happily even though there is no music.
But in the real world, I’m met with the scent of toothpaste and morning, the after burn of the mint ghosting the delicate skin of my neck. I stretch, exposing more skin, and then the feel of soft kisses trailing along my throat yanks the thread and pullsme fully into the land of the living. My dream fades and I open my eyes, finding Delilah curled up at my side, her thigh slung over my legs and fingertips grazing my low belly while she kisses my neck and collarbone.
“Mmm, good morning, Lilah.”
“Morning, Vee,” she says between kisses. Her hand inches further, thumb tracing the underside of my breast.
“I never thought I’d wake up to you trying to cop a feel.”
“I never thought you’d believe me if I told you how much I wanted to.”
She cups my breast, pinching my nipple just hard enough to send a jolt of pleasure right to my clit. Rolling on top of me, she takes my nipple between her lips and gives it a good, long suck before flicking the hardened peak with her tongue. I can still feel the minty bite of her toothpaste, and it adds an extra tingling sensation to the delightful pleasure building inside me.
“Lilah, did you get out of bed just to brush your teeth before waking me up with kisses?”
“Of course I did,” she says as she switches to my other breast to give it equal attention. Her hair tickles my bare chest—I never got around to putting myshirt back on before falling asleep last night—and goosebumps erupt over every inch of my flesh.
“Baby, you don’t have to do that. I don’t care about morning breath, but if you do let me go brush my teeth so I can kiss you too.”
“Don’t you dare move,” she presses a hand to my stomach when I try to sit up. “I had to brush my teeth because I’m pregnant and Little Bean gives me horrible indigestion, and that indigestion makes my breath smell like I’ve spent the night sipping the garbage juice from the bottom of the dumpster. Now hush up, stop making me talk about gross and embarrassing stuff and let me pleasure you properly.”
