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My retort died on my lips when his finger slipped inside of me. Squirming with the new sensation, I immediately desired more.
“We aren’t having sex. Is that clear?” He looked up from between my legs, meeting my eyes, waiting for my assurance.
As if I was the one with the ability to say no to anything at the moment. Nothing was clear except the fact that my brain was taking all its cues from my body. However my nod seemed to satisfy whatever line he was currently revising in his head.
I’d heard the expression eating her out, but never knew what it meant until he feasted his mouth on me completely. My hips bucked off the bed; I was so overwhelmed in sensation that I couldn’t control the intense reaction. His arms lifted my lower half, enabling him to push his tongue into me. My toes curled with the foreign sensation as I groaned his name, feeling myself build toward something I couldn’t identify.
But it had only begun, I discovered. His thumb found the tight nub I’d been searching for before he’d barged in, rubbing it in a circular rhythm. Watching his mouth on the most intimate part of me was not only erotic, but would forever stay etched in my brain. My entire body tensed and when his lips fastened onto my clit, I detonated. There wasn’t another word for it. No cute little panting or sexy moan, rather it was a bloodcurdling, wake-the-neighbors type scream when the bomb went off.
As I came down off my high, I opened my eyes and saw him sitting back on his haunches, looking conflicted. He continued to work his finger inside of me, spreading my wetness around as if he couldn’t stop touching me. “I shouldn’t have started this,” he murmured.
“Please tell me you’re not trying to alleviate your guilt while your finger is still inside of me.”
He inserted another one. “I can’t help it. I told myself after that last kiss—”
I kicked at his chest with my good foot. “My vagina is not a confessional, Colby Singer, so if you’re having second thoughts, then get the fuck off me.”
He crawled up the length of me, chuckling. “Sorry. You’re cute, by the way, when you say my full name with irritation.”
My eyes flashed, and he erupted into a fresh wave of laughter.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to use the dreaded C-word. You’re sexy. How’s that word, instead? Was that your first orgasm?”
Way to change the subject. “Was it that obvious you robbed the vibrator of the honor?”
He smirked. “You’re definitely not quiet. Did other guys not know what they were doing or what?”
Worried he would ask about my experience and pick up on my lack thereof, I decided to deflect. I shushed my conscience with the knowledge he’d already made it clear we weren’t having sex. “Did you give girls orgasms in college?”
He flashed a PDG. “Of course, but then again, I had a lot of practice in high school.”
“TMI.” Pushing up in order to get a better angle, my mouth met his, cutting him off with a kiss.
Leaning back, I checked his eyes. “Does it make me weird to be turned on by the taste of myself on your lips?”
“Fuck, no, it’s beyond hot.” He dove back in, tangling his tongue with mine.
Enjoying his groan of pleasure when I sucked on it, then nibbled his bottom lip; I realized his hand was searching for something.
“Do I need to draw you a map of where to touch me?”
“Ha, I’m looking for—Ah, this little guy again.”
I glanced down, realizing he had the vibrating egg firmly in his hand. He flicked the switch, and the humming started. “What are you doing?”
“Let’s get this off.” He sat me up, helping to shed me of my T-shirt and thus exposing my body completely to his gaze. He sat back, taking it all in.
I couldn’t help but be somewhat anxious about being completely naked in front of him, but refused to let him see my nerves. The man had been with movie stars and models, but I was real.
“They’re perfection. Don’t ever think about getting implants.” He leaned forward, cupping my breasts, one in each hand.
I quirked an indignant brow. “Gee, sweet talker, I wasn’t thinking about it, but thanks for the unsolicited male perspective and the backhanded compliment.”
He afforded me a sheepish grin. “Sorry. Guess I’m used to women who automatically go there when they have real ones and voice their insecurities about—”
“Choose your words wisely,” I warned, trying not to laugh at his contrite expression.
His head dipped down, kissing down each breast while his hand trailed the buzzing egg down to my drenched center. “Talking is what gets me in trouble.”
