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“Dessin,” I whisper-moan.
“One lick.”
He kisses my clit adoringly, nuzzling his mouth against my wet center, as if he’s stalling, prolonging, and building himself up to savor that one lick.
But the tease is blazing under my skin, firing up my lower belly. Muscles wind up tight, roasting as I slam my molars together at the irrepressible surge of energy funneling through my bloodstream.
I hear our friends making loud conversation to tune us out, triggering a sense of urgency in me to move this along. The teasing is a form of torture he loves to wield at my expense and now, at our friends’ expense.
“Dessin,” I scold under my breath.
He kisses my wet lips again, exhaling a gust of hot air against my tender clit. A spasm ripples up my pelvic bone, and my thigh twitches on his shoulder. How have my legs not given out yet? How am I still standing?
As if drunk, Dessin moves slower than he’s ever moved, running his tongue up my center, slipping over my hole. It clenches open and closed in a teetering violence. My mouth forms an “O,” and I have to grip his hair so I don’t fall over.
The vibrations of his groan buzz straight up my soaking channel. It’s mind-melting. A fever dream. An incineration of endorphins and drugs.
His movements stop, and I can feel his resolve slipping along with my own.
“One more,” he justifies in that rolling, growly tone.
I don’t stop him. How can I? He licks again, this time faster, with a ravenous aggression. The way a starving animal would devour its first kill in a cold winter. And it doesn’t stop at “one more.” No, because Dessin’s eyes turn a shade of bloodshot, hazed and hooded, as he laps up the honey of my arousal. Primal growls humming against my clit.
And as I edge toward my orgasm, Dessin’s tongue spears inside me, fighting the way my hole clenches randomly. He’s gripping me so hard against his mouth that his hands spread my cheeks as he lifts me higher above him. My feet actually dangle an inch above the wet floor.
“I’m going to—” My face pinches up, mouth gaping wide.
But Dessin nods at something on the other side of me. And suddenly a thin hand covers my mouth, blanketing the howl blazing out of my chest. My orgasm ripples along my inner walls, fluttering happily against his tongue still inside me.
As my feet touch the ground again, I sigh contentedly at the way that orgasm, even if it was only for a short while, took away the sting in my back.
Ruth lifts her hand from my mouth, smirking with raised eyebrows.
“My bad,” I say with fire cooking my cheeks.
She snorts and turns around once more.
It takes my eyes a moment to adjust from their dilated state, but as they shift downward, I see how engorged Dessin’s dick is.
“Hey,” I say, reaching to help him stand.
“It’ll go down.”
I shake my head. “I don’t want it to.”
He’s standing at his full height now, gripping his long shaft in his fist in an attempt to relieve the tension. Desire reignites in my chest, and my mouth waters as I imagine tasting his tip. Hot, feverish electricity ripples through my channel, still coated with his saliva and the wetness of my orgasm.
“One taste?” I ask quietly.
His brooding eyes flick to me through the shower mist. He has no self-control in front of my naked body. The way his half-crest gaze slides down my legs tells me he’s trying to find the strength and failing.
“Yes.”
I’m dizzy as I lower to the ground, knees touching the concrete. My eyes trail over the dusting of hair across Dessin’s legs, the water droplets puddling around his feet. A finger hooks under my chin, lifting my face. The spray of cold water blurs my vision, but I can still make out the hard lines of his face.
“Show me the inside of your mouth, baby.”
Something tight and needy grows inside me. A knotted, dirty form of pleasure. I open my mouth wide, sticking out my tongue.
