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He’d pressed his chin against my clit. My thin dress had to be soaking up some of my wetness. If he didn’t move his face soon, he’d surely notice.
I felt the aching between my legs again. Damn he was good. He could turn me on in a matter of seconds, then go back to chatting about everyday life. Braden was a master at verbal and sexual swordplay. He’d strike and then back off with the fluidity of a graceful dancer.
He reached out for his cup. I couldn’t see very well but it seemed like he was draining the water. The splashing sound against the grass confirmed it. I heard the rattle of ice in the waxed paper cup.
Suddenly his left hand came up to my chin.
“Put your hands over your head,” he said.
I did, gripping my little square mirror in both hands like a makeshift pair of handcuffs. He held onto one of my wrists.
His other hand was…
OHHH. There it is.
It was up my dress. He walked his fingers against my panties, right over the soft outer folds of my pussy. He kept his fingers there for a second, slightly petting me, but in a soft, sensual way.
“You’re moist,” he said.
He pulled his hand out of my dress and stuck his two fingers in his mouth.
“Mmm. You taste good.”
I had my hands on the mirror. It was the only thing stopping me from reaching down, grabbing the back of his head, and burying his face between my legs. I wanted him there so bad.
“Taste me more,” I said. “Taste it all.”
“Is that one of your requests?”
Oh man, yes it is.
It definitely was. But I only had three. Did I really want to waste one this early on? He struck me as a rule abider. He might actually get off on seeing me waste all my points before having him inside me. I could imagine him dropping me off at home with just a final hug and a “see you later.” No sex…because I had no requests left.
Fuck that.
“No,” I said. “It should be one of yours.”
He sucked on his fingers again.
“And maybe it will be. But not yet.”
He reached down, I guessed to pick up his cup. Then his lips touched my leg. First warm, soft, luscious lips kissing the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. As he played against my flesh I felt my hips buck a little. A hollow-like starvation screamed from between my legs. I needed him there.
Then I felt it. Ice cold, wet, freezing. He must have had an ice cube between his teeth because he was running it along my thigh, up a little higher, and a little higher. My pussy throbbed. I wanted his ice, his tongue, his cock to ravage me.
Fuck it’s cold, but oh my…it is so hot.
I took one hand off the mirror and reached down to him. I gripped his hair in my hand and I squeezed, yanking on it. He grunted. I pulled again. He moaned.
He opened his mouth against my thigh, taking skin in his lips, and sucked. It was cold. I could feel his tongue moving around against me and I wanted to bury his face in me, to smother his mouth with my swollen pussy lips. I wanted him to truly taste me.
“Forget the game,” I said. “Just…just…Braden forget the damned game and put me in your mouth.”
He stood, grabbed my hand, and forced it back up top with my other one.
“Taste me,” I said.
“I will.”
