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I want to be embarrassed. I plan to be embarrassed. In the sliver of a second as he ducks his head between my spread thighs, I am certain I would rather die than endure the embarrassment that will surely envelop me when he puts his mouth on my—
But then he does, and every cogent thought I’ve ever had flies right out of my mind. The air leaves my lungs. My soul defects, abandoning my body to go pledge allegiance to his.
He’s as greedy eating my pussy as he was kissing my mouth. He uses his fingers to spread me open, then licks slowly and steadily, making me melt into his bed. My belly clenches when his tongue moves higher to tease the most sensitive part of me, and I hold my breath in anticipation as he nears the spot that needs his attention most.
Then his tongue flicks it and I cry out sharply, clutching the mattress to keep from shooting off the bed. He chuckles, then murmurs, “Told you you’d like it,” before returning his mouth to my pussy.
That’s an understatement.
My eyes drift closed, and my thighs open wider. My body is shameless, but what he’s doing feels so good I can’t think straight.
He grabs my ass with one hand and pulls me even closer to the edge of the bed, but I let him this time. He can pull me all the way off it. He can throw me on the floor; I don’t care, as long as his mouth keeps doing the amazing things it’s doing.
His hot tongue laps my clit and I let out a long moan as my body writhes of its own accord. My body feels hot despite being completely naked on his bed, and I twist away without meaning to.
He yanks me right back, teasing me a little more aggressively with his tongue. It feels almost like a reprimand, but my god, he can punish me all day if that’s how it feels.
But then, like an absolute villain, he stops.
I’m confused at first. Breathless and out of sorts. When he climbs on the bed, I shift uncertainly, torn between twin realities: he’s a stranger, so I don’t know what to do or say; he’s the man who just had his mouth on the most intimate part of my body.
It feels impolite to tell him I wasn’t finished, but surely he knows that, right?
I try to guess where he’s going so I can follow his lead in whichever way I’m meant to in this scenario. I end up with my head on one of his pillows and my legs pushed apart. He positions himself lower on the bed, a one-hand grip on my leg as if he doesn’t trust me not to close them. Then he crawls between my thighs and pulls my pussy even closer to his face before draping my legs over his broad shoulders.
Oh, my.
This is a very intimate position to be in with a man whose name I just learned.
Before I can think about that too much, he says, “Sing for me, songbird,” then his mouth latches on my pussy again.
For a split second I can’t figure out if he means that literally or not, but I’m too swiftly swept up in the pleasure of his mouth on me to obey even if he did.
It only takes me a moment to hear it, though: my gasping intro, moaning my way through the first verse, a chorus of helpless noises leading to a bridge of needy cries. The song keeps playing until my thighs are shaking and I can scarcely draw a breath. I grab the mattress to keep from coming apart even while thrusting my hips closer, begging for him to unravel me.
“Please,” I whine helplessly.
He’s been toying with me, but at my plea, his grip on me tightens and he focuses his attention right where I need it.
“Oh, yes,” I say on a gasp, my body trembling and twisting. But his grip is firm, and even though my instinct is to pull away, he doesn’t let me get far. He holds me in place and makes me take it even when I feel like I’m on the brink of insanity.
And then I fall over the edge, and I can’t contain all the pleasure unleashed inside me. I cry out, my body arching and my hands clutching at the bed to ground me, but I don’t really want to come down.
I’m still drifting blissfully when Killian shifts positions, his lean, muscular frame coming down on top of me. I’m too dazed to feel alarmed like I’m sure I should, but then he sinks his fingers into my hair and kisses the hell out of me.
Killian’s fingers tangle in my hair, caressing my scalp as he explores every inch of me with his mouth. I can taste myself on his lips, and it should feel sordid, but he makes it feel intimate instead.
This is heaven.
I don’t get the sense he’s fully satisfied when he stops kissing me, but I sure am. When his perfect lips linger near my mouth, I wish I knew him well enough to joke that he should be careful about kissing me like that unless he wants me to fall in love with him, but… well, he really should.
I don’t want to freak him out, so I keep that quip from spilling out of my mouth.
Damn, he knows how to kiss.
I have a hunch that whatever his “body count” may be, Killian is a dangerous man with a trail of broken hearts behind him. And I have a worse hunch that if I’m not careful, mine could easily join the lineup.
I’ve been in a relationship with someone who never experienced this level of intimacy with me, and Killian convinced me to let him have it within hours of meeting me.
