“Can I stretch this perfect cunt with another finger? Get you ready for my cock?”
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” she murmurs, body shaking, her walls rippling tight around me.
“Yes,” she rasps, “but stop talking, or I’m going to come before you even do it.”
The way she fights to stay right on the edge, to follow my lead, makes me feel like a fucking king. And I’m going to reign over that pussy.
“That’s exactly what you’re going to do. Come for me. When I give the word.”
I take my fingers out, and she finally looks down. I make a show of licking them clean, eyes on her, and her legs twist together like she’s trying to trap the memory of what I just did.
“Show yourself you can come on a man’s tongue.” I hold her thighs slightly apart. “They just need to know what the fuck they’re doing.”
Her eyes roll back, and she leans on the wall again, hips tilting forward. An offering.
“Shut up and eat me, Dr. Jett.”
Leave it to the nanny to hand me a doctor kink after twenty years on the job.
I do as I’m told, dragging my tongue between her lips, just beneath her clit, teasing the spot that makes her hips jerk.
She’s not spreading wider. And I’m betting that’s fucking deliberate.
Shewantsto feel stretched.Overwhelmed. Filled.
I want it too. I want her stuffed full withthree fingers, my lips wrapped around her clit, trapped between me and the wall.
“Get ready to bite into that hand again.”
I follow the wet trail up her thighs with my tongue, find her clit, and stroke it with the tip of my tongue before I sink in and suck on it. I’m slow, methodical. Cruel. One swirl. Another. The kind of pressure that makes her curse more under her breath.
Then I slide in three fingers and feel that perfect resistance. The ache. The tension.
I start to work her, deep and steady, curling just right.
I know when I find the spot.
She ripples around me. More and more. Harder and harder. Her body dances along in that maddening rhythm; she can’t keep still, riding my hand. The queen’s taking what’s hers.
Fuck. This cunt, this grip—tight from wanting, from trying to hold back.
And when I latch onto her clit, all suction and no mercy… she breaks.
“Pres, fuck! Fuck, Pres, I’m… Oh my…”
She pulses around me.
Her grip turns brutal. Her thighs quake.
I keep her pinned—one hand fucking her, the other locking her hips to the wall.
Her moans splinter into my name, again and again.
“Pres! Pres! PRES!”
So raw, until she remembers to muffle her pleasure in her hand again.
And I stay kneeling, mouth sealed around her, drawing out every last tremor, fingers curling deep in slowmotion while I watch her. The woman who ‘never comes from oral’ falling apart. Legs shaking. Pride gone. Body mine.
