"Fuck, you sound amazing," I tell her between kisses. I move to the other breast, giving it the same attention, sucking and licking while she gasps above me.
Her hands are in my hair again, not pulling, just holding on like she needs the anchor. Her chest is heaving, pushing her breasts more firmly against my mouth, and I groan.
I want to know what she sounds like when she comes. Want to know if these soft, sweet moans turn into something louder, something desperate.
Want to fuck her and find out.
I kiss down her stomach, feeling her tense slightly under my lips. "Beautiful," I murmur against her skin. "Every fucking inch of you."
When I reach her jeans, she's already unbuttoning them before I can ask. Her hands are shaking slightly, but she's moving fast, clearly in a rush, and fuck if that isn't the hottest thing I've seen in years.
Nothing better than a woman who shows enthusiasm. Who wants this as much as I do. I help her push the jeans down, toss them aside. Then I stand back, just for a second, to look at her.
Alice stands before me in just her panties. They’re blue, simple, with a very noticeable wet spot in the center. Her nipples are hard and glistening from my mouth, her chest flushed, her hair messed up from my hands. She's curvy and soft and fucking gorgeous, and I can't believe this is real.
She notices where I'm looking and immediately tries to cover herself with her hands. "Sorry, I know I get—"
"Don't." I grab her wrists gently, move her hands away. "Don't apologize for being wet. That's the hottest fucking thing I've ever seen."
"Are you sure? Because sometimes I get too wet and it can be—"
"Alice." I drop to my knees in front of her, hands gripping her hips. "I'm about to have a goddamn feast. The wetter you are, the better."
Her eyes widen. Then she smirks and hooks her thumbs in her panties. "Then you'd better get started."
She pulls them down slowly, and I watch strings of her arousal stretch between the fabric and her pussy before breaking. She's soaked. Absolutely dripping. And when she steps out of thepanties, I can see she's bare, waxed or shaved, I don't care which, and glistening.
Fuck the couch. Fuck the bedroom. I need to taste her right now.
I grip her hips harder, hold her steady, and lean in.
The first lick is slow, just getting a taste, learning what she likes. She's sweet and tangy and perfect, and when I flatten my tongue against her clit, her legs actually shake.
"Carter—oh God—"
I look up at her from between her thighs, and the sight almost undoes me. Alice with her head thrown back against the wall, lips parted, chest heaving. Her hands are hovering uncertainly like she doesn't know where to put them.
"Touch me," I tell her, my voice rough. "Grab my hair, hold onto my shoulders, whatever you need. Just don't hold back."
Her hands immediately go to my hair, fingers threading through and gripping. Not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough that I know she's letting go, letting herself feel this.
I go back to work, exploring her with my tongue. I trace her slit slowly, tasting every inch of her, learning what makes her gasp and what makes her moan. When I circle her clit with the tip of my tongue, her whole body jerks.
"Too sensitive?" I ask against her skin.
"No. God, no. It's perfect. Don't stop."
I don't. I alternate between broad, flat licks and focused attention on her clit, paying attention to every sound she makes, every twitch of her hips. She tastes incredible, sweet and musky and uniquely her, and I could do this for hours if we had the time.
Her thighs are trembling now, and I can feel her trying to stay upright, trying to keep her balance. I slide my hands from her hips to her ass, gripping firmly, both supporting her and pulling her harder against my mouth.
"Carter, fuck, I can't stand much longer—"
I pull back just enough to speak. "Bedroom?"
"Too far," she gasps. "Couch. Please."
I stand quickly, and she actually whimpers at the loss of contact. But I just scoop her up. She lets out a surprised squeak, and carry her the few steps to the couch, laying her down on the cushions.
