‘You feel like fucking heaven,’ I whisper, kneeling before her like a penitent. ‘I’m going to worship every bit of you, starting with your cunt.’
Her body trembles, and she releases a breathy moan. ‘Th-that’s so bad, Mac.’
‘So bad it has you wet.’ I slip my finger inside, and she lets out the best fucking sound, somewhere between a sigh and a stuttering moan. A sound that’s full of need and wonderment. ‘So what does that make you, Ella? If my words are bad, and they make you cream like this, what does that make you?’
‘B-bad,’ she stammers in half-breaths as I slip my finger in and out of her, the lewd sound of her wetness such a fucking turn-on. ‘I want you to make me.’
I chuckle darkly. ‘I’ll make you beg.’
‘Yes!’
‘And I’ll make you bad. I’ll fill you with my cock until you’re cursing and praying for more.’
Ella whimpers, her palms flat against the wall, but there’s no more time for talking, not as I lift her knee higher. Flick her clit with my tongue. Slide my fingers deeper, curling them. Whimpers turn to moans as I spread her knee wider against the wall, opening her up as I lick her long. Cover her stomach with my forearm to prevent her from sliding down the wall.
I know I’m good at this—tonguing a woman to the edge—but I can’t seem to keep Ella there, her tight walls clamping on my fingers much quicker than I’d have ordinarily planned. But that’s okay because this isn’t the main course. Not by any stretch of the imagination. She’s mine tonight, and I mean to make her feel it everywhere.
I know the moment it happens; the way her body tightens, the way her pussy pulses against my tongue. The way her hands pull my hair as she cries out unashamed, long and loud. The way she pushes my head away as my mouth seeks her heat, the crying not abating as, slowly, so slowly I realise the noise is no longer her, but my son’s.
