A surge of warmth trickles through my core. “Do it again,” I whisper, eyes closed.
“Watch me.” He bites down on my earlobe.
Inhaling sharply, I look at him in the mirror.
His strong, tan fingers look so hot cupping my tits. He pinches my nipples, then pulls on them simultaneously.
An initial shock of pain rolls into a wave of warm, wet, undulating pleasure, causing my pussy to spasm, eager for more.
“Too much?” he asks.
“Just right,” I promise, panting.
He repeats the motion, kneading and squeezing, toying with and stretching the hard peaks.
Before long, I’m bucking my hips, rubbing my ass into his crotch, desperate for more.
With a growl, he abandons my breasts, smooths one hand down my spine, and drops to his knees behind me.
“I can’t get the vision of your perfect cunt out of my head.”
He yanks on my sweatpants, pulling them down my legs, taking my thong with them.
“You’re sensational.” He scrapes his teeth along the fleshy globe of one of my cheeks and places a wet kiss on the other.
“With your permission, I’d like to lift you onto this counter and make a fucking meal out of your cunt.”
With my permission?
Who is this man, and why isn’t his tongue already inside me?
“Please.” I pop up on tiptoes and bend over to tease him.
He chuckles, his breath hot on my skin. “You’re truly perfect, Evangeline. My god… my luck.”
Large hands caress my hips, then grip my inner thighs, guiding my legs apart. I’m practically flat against the countertop, spread wide and fully exposed.
“Alaric,” I whine, desperate for him to make good on his promise.
“I know, angel. I’m going to take care of you. Be patient and let me work.”
And work he does.
He kisses up my thighs, alternating legs, then cups my sex. But he doesn’t take it any farther. Instead, he stands and runs his tongue up the length of my spine, then trails one hand along the same path. Hepresses against my back, gently forcing me into the hard marble counter. The pressure and dominance of his hold soothe me, quelling my nerves and centering me for what’s to come.
With a hand cuffing my neck, he lifts me by the throat. After giving me a moment to take in our reflection, he turns me around.
He pulls my face to his, his tongue plunging into my mouth as he grips my jaw. He kisses me with abandon, every lick and stroke sloppier than the last, until we’re both panting and desperate for what’s next.
With ease, he lifts me onto the counter, then guides my feet onto the surface as well, exposing me completely.
Then, like he promised, he drops to his knees.
The first lick is tentative. Testing. Gripping my thighs, he drags the tip of his tongue through my sex, leaving a hot, aching trail of need in his wake.
The next lick is tactical and purposeful, his mouth closing around my clit.
When his tongue pierces into me, spots dance in my vision.
