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When she moaned, he rubbed her clit, pressed it. Deep inside she tightened, her muscles seizing as she strained toward that surprisingly wicked hand.
“Show me again, do that hip thing,” he ground out against her mouth, and she bore down, rotating, grinding.
He gave a grunt. Fingers frisked her clit, until she didn’t think she could move any faster, and she started to realize he was going not quite fast enough on purpose. “Sneaky,” she muttered. She heard a strained chuckle and then felt him insert two fingers, deep. They twisted. Paula gasped.
“Stay there—your thumb—same time as my clit,” she tried to instruct.
“I know what you want, honeycrisp. Go wild, get off on it.”
On his hand, he meant.
Oh hell but that was hot. “Yes, but you still need to—”
And…vibration. So firm. So perfect.
Everything arched and clenched. The orgasm shattered through her, and her tiny muscles seized on the two fingers Bastian drove into her smoothly, gently. “Oh mygod, Bastian.”
The spasms had barely subsided when his hand left her and slid out of her panties.
Then the bit of cotton was sliding down her legs. It was a jerky effort; her limbs were bent all wonky and he was tense and panting and oddly clumsy. He seemed to get distracted kissing his way down, following the course of the fabric down her body. When they were finally clear of her feet he shifted. She angled her head up to see his positioned squarely between her thighs.
He’d spread her legswideapart. Really wide.
“Um, are you sure you can see everything clearly down there?”
He jerked his head back. She felt a languorous excitement curl inside her at the utterly unamused and almost stern way he was regarding her. “I’m going to eat your pussy,” he stated. “I’m going to give you another orgasm and use these fingers.” Her eyes widened as she absorbed how long the fingers he held up actually were. “Then I’m going to do it again.”
After that delicious threat, his eyes shifted back to his target.
While she was still scrounging for something clever to say, Bastian spread her open and dipped down low. She felt the merest brush of his mouth. “I’m going to make you so crazy, Paula Raymond,” he whispered.
“Is that your fantasy?” she managed.
“Every time,” he said before his tongue gave a swipe…on the inside of her thigh. “Down to the glasses on your face.”
“Ahhh.”
Swipe, swipe, swipe…he kept getting closer, but he seemed all about licking her thighs and running a finger along her folds. He made no effort to minimize the noises. He wasn’t delicate. He was impressively messy. Gradually he ended up at one lip. He nibbled, sucked it in, pulled, tugged. Ran his tongue between the outer and inner folds and explored both sides that way. Went lower and tasted the entrance to her core. Went just inside. Swirled his tongue.
Then moved up and sucked at one place she’d never known existed but that pulled the tension inside her even tighter.
And all this time she sensed him peering up along her body, watching her reactions.
How thehellcould Georgette have called this boring?
“You can do my clit,” she finally got out.
His eyes shot intently to hers. “Want it licked?”
“I’m not about to beg you for it, if that’s what you were waiting for,” she countered and squirmed pleasurably.
“You just keep doing what you’re doing.” He lowered his mouth over her clit andbarelyflicked it with his tongue. And then his teeth came into play.
“Ooh.”
The next time Paula felt obligated to say something coherent, it was at least three orgasms later and along the lines of “Aren’t you tired yet?” and got her only a “Shh, eating you, sweetheart.”
Bastian stayed down there, seemed content to settle himself in. Certainly he seemed task oriented—having stated his goal clearly, he devoted himself to achieving it. But the goal didn’t involve hurrying or rushing her. Only making her feel luscious, kissing her pussy like it was kissing him back.
