Page 54 of Blue Line Lust

Her voice warbles in my head, so raspy and needy and delicious. The grip on my cock tightens. Precum coats my fingers and shaft. I lick my lips, but what I really want to lick is the sweetness that I know is lying in wait between those smooth thighs of hers. There’s nothing more I need right now than to push my tongue between her dripping wet folds to taste what her pussy has to offer me. I want to lap and suck at her pretty, pulsing clit. I want to feel her knot her fists my hair as she arches against my face and cries my name again and again until she erupts.

There’s nothing better than a woman damn near suffocating you on her pussy while you’ve got your tongue buried inside her.

My hips stutter against my bed. My cock is so hard it almost hurts.

I speed up.

I’d eat her out until she creamed my face. I’d have Olivia screaming and writhing against my mouth, and only when she begged her heart out would I finally, finally, finally sink inside her.

She’d be so warm.

So wet.

So irresistible.

“Fuck… fuck… So fucking good, Olivia.”

My head tilts back. It’s not my hand I’m bucking into, but her. It’s not myself I’m gripping, but those supple hips of hers. My hands would fit there perfectly, dragging her down into every single thrust. I’d be just too big for her. Spreading her as wide as she goes, but the base of my cock still wouldn’t be able to go all the way in.

She’d learn, though. It’d be a damn pretty sight to watch myself go in and out of her, her pleasure coating my cock and her body giving into every crackling, whimpering lash of sensation.

I’m close now. Panting hard. Groaning loud enough that if the real Olivia walked anywhere near again, she’d know exactly what I was doing to myself.

There’s something thrilling about the thought. As I’m fucking her in my mind, she’d hear just what the thought of her has done to me. She’ll know just what a mess she’d make of me.

I want her.

I need her.

Reese. Please. Please, come inside me. I can’t take it anymore?—

That’s what does it. The dam breaks. I see stars as my cock jerks in my hand, spurting a mess of white all over the sheets.

I’m shuddering. Body shaking.

But when it all fades, that clarity I was so sure would follow doesn’t come. I don’t think I’ve gotten her out of my system.

I think I’ve just made the desire worse.

23

OLIVIA

Quinn is a size queen. The bigger the better, she’s cackled to me more than once as we debrief her latest sexcapades over nachos and Netflix. I’ve always subscribed to the “motion of the ocean” philosophy: as long as you know how to use it, anything works. A dick is a dick is a dick.

So the fact that I’m laid up in bed hours later, with Violet finally sleeping and the house quiet, and I’m still thinking about Reese’s equipment? It’s maddening.

All my brain seems to want to focus on is how huge he was and how good it felt to have him pressed against me. He didn’t even get fully hard, but that didn’t stop me from getting soaked.

Where would all of it go?

I bury my face in my hands. Embarrassment floods through me, like the levees holding back my shame just completely broke away and let all of it loose. There’s no coming back from this. I know that he had to see what that did to me. There’s no living this down.

I could try to blame it all on him. It wouldn’t be that hard. He’s my boss, after all. He has the power here.

I would just tell him no. Put my foot down.

It’s what I did with Eric Harrison.

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