“Victoria? Sit on my goddamn face. If you have to focus on holding yourself up you’re not going to be focused on spraying my face with your cum. Please? I’m begging you, just plant your pussy on my tongue and ride it until you come.”
She lets go a bit more, but she’s still holding herself up. Bracing both hands on her hips, I tug her ass down and lap at her pussy. If she won’t do as I ask her to, I’ll make it so she can’t maintain balance. I’ll make her legs and arms shake so hard the only thing holding her upright will be her knees against the side of my head.
The time edging in the car and on the bed have only served to make her arousal thicker, creamier, even sweeter. It’s as though I can taste her desperation nestled right here in her pussy.
Her clit flicks off the tip of my tongue as she moans, throwing her head back. It’s something I love about her in the bedroom, that moment when she tosses her head back and her hair spills over her shoulders and tits.
She rolls her hips, cautiously kissing my tongue with her pussy. But I need more. Pressing my tongue against her clit, I drag it back and forth. She crams a fist against her mouth, dropping a hand from the headboard. Her weight settles on me more, but she’s not fully relaxed.
Settling her where I need her, I let my hands wander as I lick and bite and suck and tease at her clit like she’s my favorite toy to play with, and I’m not stopping until she breaks. I’m in no real hurry though, happy enough to take my time. But when my fingers reach her nipples, she’s already arching her back, panting, whispering pleas to let her come.
Humming against her pussy just makes her want it more. Her juices are running down my face, my chin, my throat, andcoating my lips and tongue. The more I lap, the more she gives me. When I pinch her nipples, hard, she grabs a pillow from behind my head and shoves her face into it with a breathy howl.
“So…close…”
It’s adorable that she thinks I can’t read her like a well-worn copy of my favorite book. She’s cresting the wave when I squeeze her nipples even harder, and my tongue kicks into frenzy gear, flicking against her clit with renewed energy.
She’s waited for this, worked for it, almost damn near killed me for it, and I’m more excited about her orgasm than she is. When her fingers ditch the pillow and slip into my hair, scratching nails biting into my scalp, she’s finally let go of her inhibitions.
When she rolls her hips so deep her entire pussy grinds on my face, she’s given into her base desire to just fucking come.
She explodes on my face, giving me the most delicious orgasm I’ve ever tasted, and it doesn’t stop. She drips cum onto my nose, my mouth, and by now she’s covered the tops of my shoulders and the bed with her arousal.
Her moans don’t stop, so neither does my tongue or her riding my face. If she isn’t finished, neither am I. Within a minute or so, her first orgasm crashes into a second as she bucks herself against my face, thrusting against me with such wild abandon her hair flaps around her face, clinging to her sweat sheened skin.
She collapses on the bed with a thump against the quilt. “I made a mess.” She’s starfished out on the bed, her hand covering my soaking wet face.
“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
CHAPTER 35
Victoria
There’s an inherent intuition as a mother when you wake up and it’s past the time your child usually gets you out of bed. It’s like we’ve been implanted with a chip. As soon as our eyes open, something goes, “This is not the natural order of things.”
So when I wake up, roll over to a cold and empty space beside me, and there’s not a sound to be heard, panic grips my entire body. It’s almost nine on Sunday morning. I can’t remember the last time Wyatt let me sleep past six any day of the week, never mind a Sunday.
I fell asleep before I had a chance to put any clothes on, so I yank sweats and an oversized Rainbow Brite shirt from my drawer before damn near tripping over my own feet to search the house.
Mom’s sitting at the breakfast bar cradling a cup of coffee. She flaps her hand at me in a “chill the fuck out” bid, then hooks a thumb toward the living room and puts a finger on her lips.
Tiptoeing into the living room, I hold my breath. Butnothing could have prepared me for the overwhelming adorableness right there on my couch.
Raffi and Wyatt are snuggled under a blanket, Wyatt curled in the crook of Raffi’s arm with a bowl of goldfish crackers on his lap. Blippi is on the TV which is how I know Raffi’s all in. No way in hell Wyatt gets to watch Blippi with me on a Sunday morning. Trolls is my current favorite.
The closer I get, the more obvious it becomes that Wyatt is out cold, and my hot, grown-ass-adult hockey playing boyfriend is sitting glued to my kid’s favorite TV show. It’s not even that he can’t reach the remote, it’s right next to him on the arm. He’s just invested in Blippi’s travels to a hockey rink.
On screen, Blippi’s riding around in a Zamboni living his best life. On the couch, Raffi’s cramming my son’s goldfish crackers in his face, livinghisbest life, too. I turn to find my camera. This moment is one Raffi’s going to want to remember for the rest of his life. I do, too.
When he finally notices me, I’m leaning against the doorframe, a half drunk cup of coffee in hand, and the panic that had seized me when I woke up is long gone.
“Morning, beautiful.”
I almost laugh out loud. There’s no way I look beautiful right now. I’m not wearing a bra, my giant boobs are practically at my belly button, there’s a hole in the knee of my pj pants, and my hair… Oof. God knows what that looks like considering the amount of sexing we did overnight. It probably looks like I stuck my finger in an outlet.
But I can’t help but smile.
“Wanna watch Blippi?”
