Page 61 of Cruz

He’s either going to edge me or take the edge off first. Whichever he chooses sounds like the best thing in the world.

I think it’s going to trend to the edging side. Cruz takes his time, kissing my thighs, suckling at the tender skin in the crease of my leg. Hot kisses tease along the edge of my panties. By the time his face finally hovers over me and his hot breath makes my soaked panties feel cold, I’m ready to scream or tug his face down to me. I love the attention he gives me, but I need him.

Finally, he sweeps a finger underneath my panties. His skin is rougher and calloused. It’s perfect against the silk of me. He traces my slit before adding another finger. He does the same thing, touching me without hitting any of the spots I really need him.

“Cruz,” I beg. I love that he appreciates all the work I did shaving, and I took extra time and care, but if he doesn’t touch my clit or slip those fingers inside of me soon, I’m going to lose my mind. Maybe he’s waiting for me to give permission. “I want your mouth. Take my panties off.” It comes out bossy, but I don’t care.

He peels my panties away slowly. Carefully. As if he’s unwrapping his favorite gift in the entire world. The way he looks at me, all heat and blown out pupils makes me feel like I truly am the best thing he’s ever seen.

He lets my panties fall to the floor then works his hands under me, lifting me up to his face. His mouth latches right on my core without any teasing or taking his time. I make a sound that isn’t entirely human. Some kind of keening. I shove my hands into the pillows above me and dig my heels harder into the mattress. His tongue traces my seam, flicks over my clit, then travels all the way down to my entrance.

He thrusts it inside, sucking and lapping at me.

I gasp out something unintelligible. His name. More. Other sounds of encouragement. “Oh, fuck.” That’s about the only part that comes out clear.

“So good,” he groans. “I love the way you taste.”

This is probably old fashioned, but I want to taste him too. I want to take his cock all the way to the back of my throat while he has his tongue inside of me.

“Cruz. Come here.” I tug at his face, bringing his head up.

He allows me to slip out from under him and wrestle him down to the bed. I shrug out of my camisole and then peel his boxers away. His cock springs out, swollen and red, leaking precum from the tip.

“I wasn’t finished with you,” Cruz protests on a sigh.

“I know. Don’t worry.”

He’s the one who mutters an oh fuck under his breath when I crawl over him and turn around.

Chapter 21

Sloane

Not that I’m up on my sex terms, but I swear that the sixty-nine is a lost art. Maybe people don’t talk about it anymore because they think it’s cheesy. Maybe they still do talk about it in real life. I don’t read that many romances. I should pop down to the café and pull a few off the shelf and get straight to the good parts.

Cruz helps me arrange my legs, splitting them over his face. He tugs me down and buries his nose in my slit before his tongue rakes me from my trance all the way to my clit. This is a unique angle. I grasp his shaft with one hand, bending him forward a little to get him into my mouth, and with the other hand, I play with his balls.

He curses, nothing that I can make out because it’s so garbled, but his breath is deliciously hot against me.

I kiss his tip and then trace kisses all the way down his shaft. When I reach the base of him, I move my hand so that I can reach his balls. I inhale him, musky and manly scented soap, and then I trace his balls with my tongue.

He jerks underneath me, sucks hard at my clit, and then eats his way to my entrance and thrusts his tongue inside like he’s either trying to mirror what I’m doing or pay me back for the sweet torture.

I savor every drop of the salty liquid as I circle his cockhead with my tongue. I circle him the way he does my clit, pressing the tip of my tongue into his slit so that he hisses against me. I wait a moment before I wrap my lips around his head and take him deep into my mouth. I hollow my cheeks and keep going until I feel him at the back of my throat. I breathe in and out through my nose, swallowing all around him.

He shakes even harder beneath me. My thighs are trembling too, as he eats me like I’m his favorite meal. Maybe his last meal.

I know that I’m not going to last with him doing that. The pleasure is already there, hot in my toes, tingling all the way up my legs, ready to burst from my thighs and explode at my clit. I back off, sucking him in long strokes, letting him hit my throat over and over. I guess I don’t have a good gag reflex because I don’t choke once.

He curses and I hum. His tongue does wicked things and I echo it, circling his cock, driving it down his shaft. My saliva leaks onto his balls, soaking them. My jaw aches, but I keep going. His tongue lashes my clit and my orgasm hits like a storm breaking over me.

I nearly choke myself with the shock of it. I’ve never given myself anything like this. I have to back off Cruz’s cock before I suffocate. I come and come. Waves? No, this is more like getting hit by a tsunami or an earthquake, or the kind of wave that swamps a boat and takes it right down to the bottom of the ocean.

I go rigid, hardly able to draw my next breath. Cruz laps at my clit and my entrance, every stroke scalding and jarring in intensity.

“I’m glad I held back,” he chokes out after placing one last kiss to my clit. “I’d like to feel you shatter all around me when I’m inside of you. Do you have condoms?”

“Condoms?” Right. Yeah. The sensible thing. “Fuck. No. I don’t.” That’s a big cold dose of reality.