Page 72 of Playing With Love

“Shirt stays on.”

I didn’t need to ask why. I’d bring it up later, but first I needed to take care of my woman.

On my way to the bed, I unhooked the towel. I stopped at the side of the bed, taking in the view, memorizing it, hoping this wasn’t a mistake that turned into a setback.

Liza’s gaze dropped to my dick and she asked, “Are you just gonna stand there and stare?”

That hadn’t been the plan.

Now it was.

I hooked my hand around her ankle, yanked her closer to the side of the bed, and wrapped my other hand around my dick. With my attention transfixed on her pussy I slowly stroked my cock and used the tips of my fingers of my other hand to gently skim up her leg, stopping just shy of glistening wetness.

It didn’t take long for her to start squirming.

“Tucker,” she whined. “You’re killing me.”

Without taking my eyes off my finger skating closer to where she wanted, I noted, “Like you damn near killed me when I woke up. You got great tits, Lizzy. Pure torture having them so close to my mouth and not being able to play.”

I ran my finger up the seam of her lips from ass to clit, gathering wetness as I went. With only a hint of pressure her hips bucked.

“You could’ve,” she moaned.

“Is that your permission to wake you up with my mouth tomorrow morning?”

“Yes,” she hissed when I circled her clit with my thumb. “You should do that now. Give me your mouth, I mean.”

I tucked that permission away for tomorrow and addressed her demand.

“Is that what you want? My mouth? Or…” I halted my words in favor of show rather than an ask, and pushed two fingers deep. “Will my fingers work?”

Liza’s hips came off the bed, her legs closed around my arm, and her pussy clamped around my fingers.

“Spread, baby. Keep your legs open.”

Slowly, she opened her legs.

“Tucker, honey,” she moaned.

The sound of her moan was music to my ears. A sound I’d longed to hear again for a decade.

“Tell me, Liza. Do you want my fingers or mouth?” I asked while giving my dick a long, lazy stroke.

“Mouth.”

I’d waited a long fucking time to taste her again, so long sometimes it felt like I’d imagined the whole thing. So long I didn’t have it in me to go slow. I bent to her and ate. I didn’t care my angle was awkward, I didn’t care my dick was aching to take her a different way. I took and I feasted and I did it with my thumb at her clit, my tongue lapping up her excitement, drinking her in, loving every second.

Her hands slid into my hair, her hips bucked, and she cried out her orgasm.

I was so lost in the taste of her, the sounds she was making, having it back after not having it for so long, loving it, wanting it forever, I almost missed it—the wild. The side of my girl I’d only had once but knew it was coming. The kind of wild, if I didn’t slow this down, she’d take what she wanted and I wasn’t ready to give it to her yet.

“Take me, honey.”

There it was.

Fuck.

I slowed my thumb, giving her soft and slow after taking her hard. I kissed the inside of her thigh, straightened, and faster than I thought possible, Liza scrambled to her knees. Just as quickly, her hand latched onto my dick.