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“Say it.”
Through clenched teeth, I hiss, “Saint.”
“Good girl. Now beg to worship my tongue.” He hasn’t forgotten his command.
I squeeze my eyes shut before forcing out the words. “Please let me worship your tongue.”
“Mmm.” His throaty groan makes my aching clit throb. “That’s my obedient girl.”
I want to snap that I’m not his girl and I’m sure as hell not obedient, but that’s when a warm, soft tongue strokes up my pussy.
I cry out, the pleasure from that tortuous buildup already overwhelming me.
His tongue dances teasingly along my clit, and I hiss at the exquisite sensation until he abruptly pulls away. I mewl pathetically in protest. “Do you worship my tongue yet, muse?”
My mind is shoutingno, but my body is screamingyes. When my already-swollen clit throbs, I clench my jaw. “Yes,” I grind out before muttering, “Asshole.”
He chuckles, but he doesn’t punish me for the disobedience this time, thank god. He strokes his tongue up slowly between my folds. I arch, pushing my pussy harder against his mouth.
Fuck.
His tongue glides slowly, teasingly, up my center again and I whine, “Please.”
Finally, he rewards me, tongue pressing hard against my clit and giving me the relief I long for. Pleasure zips up my spine and the moan wrenches from my throat.
When he sucks my clit into his mouth, my toes curl and thighs clamp together, pinned to his head. The sides of his mask, still propped up above his mouth, dig into my skin, but I don’t care. Mind lost to the pleasure his glorious mouth is wringing from me.
He pulls my throbbing nub before releasing it with a small pop of his lips. I gasp, drenched in sweat and my own arousal.
His hands slip under my ass and haul me up to his mouth, where he plunges his tongue inside me.
I cry out, wrists straining at the belt holding me in place. He pumps his tongue in my pussy, stretching and tasting me.
“You’re going to drown me,” he whispers in reverence, in awe.
He licks up me, swirling his tongue around my clit before spearing my pussy again. He switches back and forth, spreading our mixture of arousal and saliva all over me as he can’t decide what he loves more—my cries of ecstasy when he licks my clit or my groans of pleasure when he fucks me with his tongue.
The pleasure mounts to a catastrophic level, the impending orgasm inevitable now. “Don’t stop,” I beg.
“How do you want to come, muse?” he breathes, just as desperate for my release as I am.
“Your mouth sucking my clit and your finger inside me,” I pant.
Without another word, he sinks his finger in my pussy, curling and hitting a spot that makes my eyes spring open. He wraps his lips around my clit and sucks, and that’s when I scream.
“Saint!”
The orgasm barrels through me, ripping pleasure from every cell. My back arches and eyes roll, throat growing raw as the scream doesn’t stop as he wrings every ounce of pleasure from me, pumping his finger frantically and sucking so hard on my clit, the pleasure turns to a new sort of agony. The sensation too overwhelming, my clit too sensitive, but he doesn’t stop or gentle until I collapse beneath him, utterly spent and limbs liquid.
My heart thumps wildly against my ribcage, ceiling blurring as my eyes cross and I finally come down from the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had in my life.
Holy. Fuck.
Maybe I have found a saint to worship.
He wipes my arousal off his mouth and chin, sliding back up my body and fixing the mask over his face again. He wore it knowing it would turn me on more. “You look beautiful when you sleep. But even more so when you’re screaming my name while you come.”
I can only pant beneath him, mind still spinning and lungs unable to catch my breath enough to produce a retort.
