Ten… nine… eight…
She groans, digging her hand in my hair and spreading her thighs wider.
Seven…six…five…
I add a finger into her pussy and pump it in and out.
Four…three...two…
I pull off.
Taylor squeaks and grabs my hair by the roots. “Don’t stop!”
“I don’t hear you laughing anymore.”
With my head still between her legs, I wink at her and then get down to having fun. Hooking my finger to hit her g-spot, I suck on her clit and make herdetonate so hard she cries.
These are the only tears I can handle from this day forward.
Taylor sobs, laughs, and pants in flustered confusion while I pepper her with little kisses until I reach her mouth. “Are you okay?”
“You just knocked all my planets out of retrograde.”
I kiss her softly and then lie next to her so we can cuddle while she rides her drop. Not gonna lie, I’m pretty proud to have her in this state, even if I feel a little sorry for her. Taylor has no idea what’s she’s in for with me. I’ve been obsessed with this woman for most of my life and now that I’ve been given permission to have my way with her? There will be no end to my torment and pleasure.
Pressing my mouth to hers, I let her taste herself on my tongue. She groans and takes charge of the moment, wrapping her arms around me to keep me close. Her tongue swipes along mine and she pulls back a little, sucking my bottom lip. Who the flying fuck taught her to kiss like that? I’m torn between sending them flowers and a death threat.
“How on earth did you learn to do that with your tongue, Conner Montgomery?
My cockiness comes out full force as I say, “Honey, I’ve been eating pudding cups without a spoon since I was like ten years old.”
Her laugh rips through the room and she smacks my shoulder. “Oh my god.”
We curl on our sides and face each other, neither of us saying anything.
“So ummm.” Her cheeks are rosy again. “What now?”
“What do you mean?”
Her brow furrows and her babydoll eyes look up at me with worry. “Like, how do we do this?”
Chapter 13
Taylor
If someone told me I’d be lying in my bed, in the middle of the day, naked with Conner-the-anaconda, I would have laughed in their face. First off, I thought the rumors about the size of his dick were bullshit. Kelly gave him that nickname in high school and I kinda thought it was like calling a big man Tiny, ya know? Or that she was trying to hype up their physical relationship by bragging about him to her friends to make him sound cooler than he was. Because Conner wasnotone of the cool kids growing up. And since he prefers to date outside of the towny population as an adult, I’ve never been able to verify it for myself. It’s not like I would ever ask one of the guys about it. That would have been embarrassing and inappropriate and weird. But between his cuddles and the size of his you-know-what, his nickname’s accurate. Very, unbelievably accurate.
Does he trip over that thing when he’s getting dressed?
And those tongue tricks? Diabolical.
His kissing skills? Insane.
No man is self-taught. I’m convinced they’ve been guided and trained by their partners. Which means I want to thank every woman he’s ever beenwith and skin them alive for having him first.
My heart thrashes in my throat as I ask, “How do we do this?”
I’m not even sure what I’m referring to—his size versus mine, our relationship, our schedules. Is this a onetime thing because he’s hit rock bottom and I’m his safe-space or am I some desperate fool who stepped in when he needed comfort and an orgasm and now it’s over.
