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“We’re going to christen this house,” Atlas says huskily as his hands clasp my thighs, and he widens my legs a little, throwing them over his shoulders as he positions himself between them once more. “Starting with the kitchen.”
“Oh my god.” When his mouth meets my core, kissing me tenderly, I nearly fly right off the counter. “Oh. Oh my god.”
He groans without looking up. “So wet. And you taste like peaches and cream.”
“How very cliché.”
He pauses, then replies, “Right. Well, you taste like sugar over a big bowl of strawberries.”
“Pretty sure that would wreck strawberries. You can’t put sugar on them! They’re the best when they’re just a little bit sour.”
“You taste like a table full of desserts, perfect desserts—sweet, rich chocolate cake, savory cherry cheesecake, cherry pie, and, at the end of the table, a huge bowl of bubblegum ice cream.”
“Sacrilege.”
“Alright, a waffle cone with three scoops of bubblegum ice cream.”
He uses his tongue to tease my clit, and I melt onto the countertop. “Okay,” I say with a nod. “Okay, I’ll agree to that one.”
He tastes me from my clit all the way to my entrance, lapping my wetness onto his tongue and swallowing me down like he’s eating his fill of said desserts. Like he’s parched and wouldn’t be able to survive one single second more if he didn’t have me in his mouth. Me.
I can hardly believe this is real and not just a deliciously naughty dream I’m dreaming because when I’m asleep, I can’t control my mind, and even when I’m awake, I would never dare to fantasize about something so naughty because it would just feel like a tease when I could never have the real thing.
He teases me with his tongue, doing wicked things with it that send me to magical fantasy land, except this is very, very real. I feel swollen with desire. My clit is throbbing like it really is a panic button, and if pressed one more time, it will send me into a full-on explosion.
Atlas devours me, and my legs shake so hard that they vibrate against his shoulders, bouncing off the muscle and bone. I’m writhing all over the place, and finally, one hand clamps down on my leg to keep me in place. My hips still buck forward, eager for the pleasure that he’s giving me. The kitchen is full of the sounds of us, our sharp breaths, the slam of my heart, and the sounds Atlas is making as he treats me to the first real sexual experience I’ve ever had in my life.
My hips are like a sea, rocking forward and back, and I’m pretty sure I’m drenching his face, but the only sounds he makes are sounds of satisfaction, and knowing that he finds me delicious and wants to make me feel good just banks the fires that are already licking over every inch of my skin.
“You taste better than all the desserts in the world. You have the sweetest pussy. Even better than bubblegum ice cream.”
“That’s lies,” I pant breathily. “Nothing is better than bubblegum ice cream.”
He growls. Yes, growls. The sound is like a feral beast, and it gives me straight-up shivers even before he surges up, brackets my face with his hands, and kisses me deeply. I whimper, parting my lips and sighing at the sharp taste of myself on his lips. His tongue sweeps in, finding mine and letting me taste him and me, taste us combined.
“Holy farge,” I whimper into his mouth.
“Love tasting you,” he groans. “Love having you taste yourself off my tongue.” He sweeps his tongue over my lips, painting them with his filthy, delicious words. “Want to taste you as you come apart. Is that okay?”
Yeah, now would probably be a good time to tell him that I’ve never done this before. Right, so my fingers don’t exactly count, I don’t think. But I’m mortified at having to say the words out loud. I know that in the scheme of things, twenty-one is ancient to still be in possession of my V-card, and just thinking about stammering those words makes my cheeks flame hotly. I’ll just hold on for a few more minutes. Just a few.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “That’s alright with me.”
“Just alright?” He grins at me deviously. “I clearly wasn’t doing my job well if it was just alright. Maybe you can give me some pointers.”
Ha. Pointers. It’s only funny because I’m the last possible person who could ever give pointers. “No,” I pant. “That was a poor choice of words. It was incredible. I’d like it if you tasted me like that again, and I’d very much like to…um…to—”
“Ride my face while you come so hard that you get magically transposed to another zip code?”
“Yes, that’s it.”
“Okay, brace yourself. One new zip code coming right up.”
