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She lifts up her head. Crawls up until she’s a couple of inches from my face. “Hey. ”
“What?”
“You don’t come with a guidebook. Tell me what you want. ”
Author: Robin York
“You’re doing great. ”
I jerk off the bed before I understand why. She pinched my nipple, twisted it. Not in a cute way.
“The fuck? That hurt!”
“Tell me what you want. ”
Her eyes are intent, her mouth set in this no-nonsense line. She looks like classroom Caroline, sure of herself, ticked at me for keeping her from completing this lesson to her satisfaction.
I love her like this.
“Suck me,” I say. “Hard. ”
She smiles this little smile. Totally satisfied with herself. “Thank you. ” Her head drops down again. “Now, keep talking to me, or I’m going to drive home and you’ll be all alone with your right hand. Or is it your left, since you’re left-handed?”
I don’t think I’m supposed to answer the question. Not when she’s crawling down my body, ass in the air. I want my hands on that ass. Get her turned around, pussy in my face, dripping all over me while she sucks me off.
I’ve said shit like that to her on the phone, when I was too far gone to stop myself, safe because I was a couple thousand miles from her. But it’s different to think about saying it to her face. Does she like that, or does she just put up with it? Where do girls like Caroline draw the line?
When she wraps her hand around me, I reach down, show her where to pull the skin tight. “Here. ”
She takes over. Then she’s licking me again, flicking her tongue over the head, sucking me into her mouth. Sucking hard.
“Jesus fucking Christ. ”
She pops me out of her mouth long enough to say, “That’s more like it. ”
There are no girls like Caroline. Just Caroline.
She’s more than enough.
She sucks me, licks me, tongues me in the spot I show her until I’m lifting off the bed, my legs stiff, my dick so hard I can’t possibly last. When she goes for my balls this time, I show her where to stroke behind them, where to press—oh, fuck, she’s a quick study.
“Turn around,” I say, but I’m not sure she understands me. Not sure I can make words that actually come out sounding like English.
“Caroline. I—can you—gnuh. ”
“Eh?” she teases.
I sit up, grab under her arms, haul her up my body. Her lips are shining, wet, and I kiss her, get my tongue inside her, get my hand in her panties and my fingers into her slickness. She’s slippery, soaking. God damn.
She moans into my mouth. “West. ”
“Turn around,” I tell her.
“What?”
“Turn around. Get your hips up here”—I tug her toward my face—“and your mouth back down there. ”
“That’s … Can’t we just have sex now?”
