"Oh god, oh god," I whimper."Noah, I’m scared."
"Of what?"He follows his question with a tender kiss to the inside of my left knee.
I gasp, jerk, my legs slamming closed."I don't know."
"Morgan, honey."He trails fingertips down over my quads, over my kneecaps, down to my toes, tickling and teasing."Tell me what you're afraid of.Please, sweetheart.Trust me.Tell me the thing that terrifies you the most.Put it out there."
Even with the eye mask on, I squeeze my eyes shut.My words escape through gritted teeth."I'm scared you'll look at me or…or touch me…down there and-and-and be…disgusted."When I say it out loud, it sounds patently absurd, in relation to Noah Austin.
"Do you really think that's what’s in my head when I look at this?"His fingers ghost down the seam of my sex.“That I'm disgusted?"
"No."
I feel his body cover mine, feel his erection sliding against my skin."Does it feel like I'm disgusted?"
“No."
His lips find mine, teasing a kiss."You sure?"
His hard-on rubs against my thigh, scrapes over my sex, up my belly.Slides between my breasts.Nudges my chin.My lips part, my mouth opening, begging to taste him…
"Are you disgusted, Morgan?"He growls, teasing and nuzzling, seeking my lips with his cock.
"No!"I pant."Let me taste you."
He eases his tip against my lips, and I wrap them around the plump, fat, round head of his thick, hard cock.My belly flutters and my sex weeps at the salt of his skin and the heat of his flesh, and I slather my tongue over his tip, tasting him.
And then he's gone.
"Does that say I'm disgusted?"
“No."
"What does it say, Morgan?"
"You want me."
"What do I want?"his lips touch belly, hip bone.
"Me."
"Be more specific."
“To…taste me."
"Taste what, Morgan?"
"My pussy."
"Show me, sweetheart."
Panting, fighting my irrational but potent fear, I ease the tension in my thighs, oxymoronically forcing them to relax."Noah.I'm trying.I want to let you.I need to come, Noah.I'm trying, but I…I'm too—too…"
"I have a solution," he whispers."You still trust me?"
"Yes."
"How much?"
