Page 125 of Make You Mine

Hands other than mine on my body, cherishing my most sensitive parts.

I thrust deeper into his fingers.

“D-don’t,” he says. It’s stitched, stuttering, and weirdly familiar.

The voice doesn’t sound robotic or artificial anymore. Or did I imagine it?

He pulls his fingers out of my pussy, and I’m left needy, as he visibly taps at the microphone strapped to his mask.

Then, he lifts me off the machine and spins me around, making me prop against the glass instead, slightly bending, elbows against the cushion.

“Don’t you dare turn around. Or I’ll stop,” he whispers, and I’m questioning my hearing.

That—didn’t sound like a voice modifier either.

One of his hands goes to the back of my neck, holding me firmly.

Soft lips lay a trail of kisses along my spine as his wet tongue peeks out and joins in. Delicate strokes that stop at the small of my back.

It’s evident that he’s not wearing the mask now, and I am so damn tempted to turn around and look.

His hand leaves my neck, and he spreads both my ass cheeks open and falls to his knees.

A cold breeze is exposing the back of my pussy, until it isn’t anymore. He’s blowing hot air into me.

I squirm at the sensation, my core throbbing, needy. I look over my shoulder and down at him. Try to catch him, but the mask is lifted over his forehead, and it covers my peripheral vision. I can’t see his face.

The first touch is the deadliest. His tongue parts the lips of my pussy apart from behind.

Warmth floods through my veins, and my whole body vibrates with pleasure.

I moan. He licks back and forth along my slit while holding me spread from behind. Sucking and licking in repeated movements, almost forming a routine.

I hold onto the machine, gripping its sides as my legs threaten to buckle.

He devours me, making every stroke count; it’s as if he’s spelling a word with his tongue.

I focus on the sensations rippling through me, the accuracy of his strokes. Straight up, diagonal down, diagonal up, straight line. M. It doesn’t take me long to realize what he’s writing, as he sends waves of electricity that connect to my vocal cords and turn me into a whimpering mess.

“Mine.” I moan.

“That’s right, Maddy,” he whispers into my pussy. “You’re mine, don’t forget it.”

His voice is low and strangely familiar, but I’m so deep in ecstasy that I can’t think straight.

My knees buckle, my head’s spinning around as he speeds up, licking up and down, going crazy on my sex, devouring me like a man who hasn’t eaten for days.

I’m fighting so hard not to let my legs give in, my whole body quivering with pleasure as a new melody resounds in my ears.

He takes his tongue off my pussy and slaps my ass.

I gasp as he spins me around, mask on his face once again.

I try not to think about the fact that I feel empty all of a sudden, and I’m dripping in need.

I seize on the fact that the song that’s playing isn’t the same one as before. He didn’t prepare only one—he has a full playlist ready for this moment, for us.

It’s kind of romantic.