She pushes up onto her forearms, staring down as I slide her thighs wider to study that piece of heaven. Diligent student that she is, she watches my appreciation and my fleeting touches.
“Listen.”
Our eyes meet as I push a finger inside. We both hear the evidence of how much she wants this—how ready she is—even without her sweet little moan. And we both see it as I rub her pleasure between my thumb and fingertip. Her eyes darken as I bring them to my mouth, lips closing over the freshwater taste of her.
“Why is that so hot?” she whispers, a tremor running through the sentiment.
“Because you are.” I push inside her again. Her head drops back, body melting against the table like ice cream on a hot pavement. My cock aches as I work that digit in, then out, loving her soft sighs and the way she feels like velvet. One finger, then two, and her moans deepen. Another finger and a twist of my wrist, and she cries out, undulating against the invasion.
“Oh, God. Don’t stop.” With languid, midnight eyes, she reaches between us to grab my wrist. As though there’s any chance I would. As though I don’t want to see this.
“You’re so beautiful, every inch of you.” Her body begins to tighten, and her thighs to shake. “Yeah, just like that,” I croon. “I can’t wait to be inside you, feeling you pulling me deeper and deeper.”
Still holding my wrist, she begins to writhe. “Please, more. I need you.”
“Not yet,” I whisper. “Not until I kiss you here.” Her back arches from the table as I lick my thumb to slide it over the bud of her clit. “Would you like me to do that?”
“Yes.God, yes.” Her desperation a thing of beauty.
“You want me to put my mouth on you?”
“Yes!”
“Feather kisses over your pretty little clit?”
“Yes, please.”
“You want me to kiss your pussy? To make out with it?”
“Yes, Matt. Please! I want to have sex with your face!”
“Now, there’s an invitation ...” I slide my hands under her arse and pull her down to engulf that swollen little bud. Her body spasms with relief as I suck it. Lick her. As I press my face to her pussy like I’m trying to make a mold.
“Oh, God, yes! Yes!”
“You’re a thing to be devoured, teacup. I want to sup and suck,” I rasp. “Drown myself in you.”
She crests—peaks. Pulls on my hair so hard, I think she might leave me with a bald patch.Worth it, though.And she’s fucking vocal, which is the icing on this cake. A cake I want to gorge myself on as her cries ring through the room.
“Oh, my God.” Panting. Happy. Smiling. She’s maybe even a little shocked. “That was so, so good.”
“So fucking good,” I growl, not yet done.
“Matt ...” She squirms. Pushes on my head. “Please.”
“Stop tryin’ to wriggle away. I’m not done here.”
“I am!” she exclaims, part exasperation and part giggle.
“You just think you are.”
“Matt.” She pulls on my hair, and our eyes meet. “I can’t.”
“Yeah, you can. And I want it, Ryan.” My dare, then her grip slackening.
“You’re trying to kill me,” she groans.
“But what a way to go.” Lowering my head, I suck her clit into my mouth.
