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“You don’t… that’s…”
My ex-husband didn’t like going down on me and pretty much only did it when he was trying to apologize for something. It always felt like an obligation, and I didn’t want Carter to feel like that.
“Carter…”
“Tell me to stop and I’ll stop, Zoe,” he said, more to the fleshy part of my inner thigh than to me. “But I’m starving for you.”
As if to prove it, he trailed his lips from my knee all the way to my hip crease, teasing me with the tip of his tongue as he got closer and closer to where I needed him. He ran a finger over my slit, and I felt myself dripping for him, loving and hating this in equal measure. Wishing he’d just put an end to this torture and eat me out already.
He sucked the taste of me off his finger.
“Better than the orange Sour Patch Kids,” he mused.
I laughed, relaxing a little. I raised an eyebrow.
“What?” he wondered.
“I just realized I’ve never laughed during sex before.”
He looked up from between my legs, teasing. “It’s rude to laugh at a man who’s about to go down on you, Zoe.”
“I know… I—”
With that, Carter started running his tongue in a long, slow circle around my clit. I dug my fingers into his hair, a silent plea to keep going. He upped the speed, then the pressure, then inserted a finger inside me.
“Carter…”
“Who’s laughing now?” he said against my skin.
My toes curled. I gripped him harder as he worked me over with his tongue and hands, curling his fingers in acome-hithermotion that drove me wild.
I bucked against him, but he held me in place, lavishing my clit with his tongue before sucking it into his mouth.
“I’m so close, Carter. I—”
“Then come.”
“I want you inside me when I come.”
“No,” he commanded. “This first.”
“But—”
“Come for me, Zoe. Come on my tongue. I’ll make sure you come again when I’m inside you.”
He’d make sure I came twice. The thought of Carter having that kind of power over me sent me over the edge and I came, my back arching up off the bed. I cried out his name. I felt weightless for a moment.
But that moment was short lived. I immediately wanted more.
“Carter…”
He scrambled back up to kiss my lips. I tasted myself on his tongue, but I didn’t care. It made me want him more. I made my way out from underneath him and coaxed him onto his back. He went willingly. I took his stiff cock in my hand and ran my thumb over the tip, wetting it with precum and gave him a long, slow stroke from root to tip. I kissed his neck, his jaw, his collar bone, anywhere but his lips. I wanted to drive him as crazy as he’d driven me.
“Mercy, Zoe,” he said, breathlessly. “I can’t hang on much longer.”
I relented and kissed his lips as I lined the head of his cock up to my entrance. I didn’t waste any time. I took him as deeply as I could, squeezing around him as I rode him, making his head roll back on the pillow.
I found my rhythm, riding Carter as he bucked beneath me, my hands splayed over his pecs. He gripped my hips tightly. I watched as sweat pooled at Carter’s temples. My hair was stuck to my neck. My breath was ragged as I ground down on him harder, chasing what we both craved.
