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This time, she complies without hesitating. She fucks herself with her fingers. It's hard, deep.
I am fucking jealous.
But I wait until she's at the edge. I can see it in the way her back arches, in the way her chest heaves with every inhale.
"You want to come, baby?" I ask.
She groans something incomprehensible.
"You come on my face first. Press your palms into the sheets."
"But…"
"Now."
She does. Almost. She tugs at the sheets, shifting her weight between her ass cheeks, tapping her toes against the bed.
She's so fucking close.
Damn, she looks beautiful with that mix of agony and ecstasy in her expression.
She watches me as I shift onto my knees and bring the bottle of champagne over her stomach.
I pop the cork.
It hits the fucking ceiling.
Bubbly spills over the sides of the bottle. It dribbles onto her stomach. I hold the bottle over her, dribbling champagne over her tits, over the hollow of her neck, over her chin and mouth.
She licks it off her lips.
Her eyes get hazy. She's too deep in desire to pull back now. And she's new to this.
I need to be extra careful.
Extra attentive.
I place the bottle back on the bedside table and I straddle her. Fuck, the feeling of her soft body under mine—
"Mal," she groans. "Fuck. Am I supposed to be this inarticulate?"
"Yes." I lean down to press my lips to hers.
Fuck, she tastes good. Like champagne and like Lacey. She kisses back, hard. Her lips nip at mine. Her tongue slides into my mouth.
She rocks her hips against mine.
The friction of her cunt against my cock begs me to fuck her.
It's torture resisting, but it's nothing compared to the way I'm torturing her.
Once I've lapped every drop of champagne off her lips, I move on to her chin. To that space where her collarbones meet.
To her chest. I lick every drop of champagne over her right breast, then I take her nipple into my mouth. She groans as I flick my tongue against her tender bud.
And when I bite her, just softly enough for it to hurt and feel good—
Fuck, the sound she makes is music.
