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I use my tongue like a weapon, licking hard and trailing it over every inch of her sweet pussy. I lap up the moisture still lingering there and sigh in contentment as she whimpers in pleasure. This is what I’ve been missing. I’ve never tasted anything sweeter than Rea. I tease her with a finger while I continue working her with my tongue. She might not make a sound, but she can’t hide how much she’s enjoying this. Her muscles betray her by trembling, and her belly quakes beneath the light blouse she has on. She’s so wet that she pretty much soaks my face. Happily, I lick up every drop, knowing she can’t help it as her hips rise off the counter and thrust into my mouth. I taste her like it’s been…well…nearly a decade.
A very hard, lonely, and dry decade without Rea, though I’m no cactus. I’m more like a plant that needs water and sunlight but got neither for so long that I forgot what it was to actually blossom again. Rea blossoms beneath my mouth, too, in an entirely different way. Maybe we’re both flowers like how we’re both combustible. Combustible flowers? Christ. That’s a thought.
I tease Rea with my fingers while working her with my tongue. She’s growing more out of control by the minute, and I think she’s forgotten all about trying to hide it. She swivels her hips wildly, bucking up into my mouth.
God, the taste of her.
I’ve had nothing better in my entire life.
If I could do this to her forever, I’d die a happy man. Hopefully, somewhere around sixty to seventy years from now, and before her. Because all that stuff they say about not wanting to spend a single day apart without the person you love? Yeah, I’ve always known it’s Rea.
Did I really think I could just come here and get over her? That her telling me why she really left would solve anything? Would fix the whole distance, we’re not dating, and we’ll probably never be together again problem? This. This right here is the reason I could never get Rea out of my head. Well, there are other reasons too, but this is just one of them, aside from her laugh, her smile, and the razor-sharp wit she likes to use on me. Also, her kind, beautiful, and sparkly heart, not forgetting the fact that she makes toilet paper for a living and puts her entire being into it.
I taste Rea like it’s the last chance I’m going to get because god knows, it might be. She’s hot and eager beneath my mouth, and I work her with my fingers, gently circling her clit while I taste her at her entrance. She grips my hair and very nearly rams my face into her. Her hips buck against my face, riding me—riding my tongue, chin, and lips.
She’s starting to make breathless moans, and when I swivel my tongue over her clit, she whimpers and nearly shoves herself right off the counter. I worship her the way I’d dreamt of doing for the past eight years. She’s already hot and yearning, and when I stick two fingers inside her tight, sweet entrance, she barely holds on. I can’t see, but my guess is she’s gripping the counter so tightly with her one hand that her knuckles are ghostly pale. She’s just about tugging my hair out with the other, and damn it, the burn across my scalp shoots straight down to burn in my groin.
Rea rides my tongue, grinds against my fingers, swivels, and bucks, all without falling off the counter. She’s seriously talented. And seriously tight. I thrust up into her while I lap up her juices and ply her clit with my tongue. I savor every single nanosecond of the contact.
I know it will be over far too soon as Rea throws her head back and cries out. I don’t think either of us saw it coming, but I work with it, seeing stars when her tight walls clamp around my fingers, and her wetness coats the counter, my hand, and my face. She doesn’t scream my name or dig her nails right through my t-shirt. She also doesn’t mark me, bite me, score me with her nails, or dig her heels into me. She’s entirely civil.
I want more, but I also don’t want to push her too hard. I don’t want her to regret doing things she might still be confused about. As far as I know, she’d still like it if I left, and there is no way I’m taking things to another level when her head isn’t ready for it.
Ready for me.
In the way that I want her to be ready.
I’m not going to force her to want it. I want her to want it all on her own. Confusing her by pushing her over the edge of a Kayden-sized cliff isn’t the way to do it.
