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“No, seriously,” he says. “Should I get a white coat? You can call me doctor if it’s what does it for you.”
I throw my arms over my face and groan out loud.
“If this is supposed to be dirty talk, it’s not really—holy shit!”
That last part bursts out because Lake’s tongue is suddenly in my ass. Or maybe not in, exactly, but he’s definitely making a serious effort to get there. My toes curl in the sheets, and his hair tickles my thighs, and what the fuck? Is this supposed to feel this good? He licks over my hole again and again, teasing me with the tip of the tongue, then the flat part.
He taps my hand, and I look down at where his head is still between my thighs. His eyes lock with mine.
“Spread ’em,” he says.
My breath gets stuck somewhere in my windpipe. He can’t mean… Yeah, he totally does. He spreads my cheeks himself and gives a quick lick before he looks up, a sort of challenging look in his eyes. My arms feel about fifty pounds heavier when I move them. I clutch my own ass and… spread.
The hazy pleasure of before is replaced by something very sharp and aware. I feel his breath against my hole. And when he dives back in with his tongue? Ten times more intense all of a sudden. His tongue breaches me. A loud grunt escapes from between my lips.
He hums and keeps going.
Adds a finger.
Another loud groan escapes.
He keeps going until he’s worked that finger all the way up inside me, then adds another one. Somewhere in there he manages to seamlessly add lube to the equation. I breathe like I’m running a marathon at first, because fucking hell it takes effort to figure out how a finger in my ass can feel both uncomfortable and pleasurable at once.
It takes effort to figure out whether feeling this raw and flayed open in front of another person is really even possible, and if it is, is it a good thing?
But then… it’s Lake.
And there’s his tongue licking the spot underneath my balls and his fingers in my ass. And when he curls them just so, I almost come off the bed.
“What the fuck?” I rasp.
He laughs softly, and the sound vibrates through me. He crooks his finger again, and I buck up.
He keeps going. Slicks up his fingers again. Adds a third one.
I have no idea how much time passes before he grabs the condom and tears the packet open with his teeth. He pinches the tip and rolls it down his length.
Somewhere in the back of my head, I remember I was nervous about this part.
He crawls up my body and plants a gentle kiss on my throat before he rolls himself off me and to my side.
“Roll over,” he murmurs. “On your hands and knees.”
I stare at him.
“It’ll be easier,” he says patiently.
“You’re the expert.” I do what he says.
“Well, I’ve been practicing for a good few years already.”
I throw an unimpressed look over my shoulder. “And nobody ever thought to tell you not to bring up past sex partners to the person you’re about to fuck?”
“I can’t really say it has come up that often, no.”
“Well… don’t,” I say.
“Noted.”
