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I smile since that’s sinful but also kind of funny. Then, Atlas’ face is back between my legs. He rubs his cheek against my inner thigh, and I twitch and nearly purr at the feel of his whisker burning my sensitive skin. He pushes my thighs apart, and then his mouth is on me again, eating me in that same famished and parched way he was tasting me before. His tongue is everywhere, and all I can do is clutch the edge of the countertop while I tremble and rock and pant. I’m pretty sure I’m also drenching his face. It sounds like I’m drenching his face. The wet noises make me blush, but they also dial up the hotness level. Did I mention he’s eating me instead of dinner, right on top of the kitchen counter?
I close my eyes and try and think about something else while I also try and slam my legs close and double that up by burying my hands in Atlas’ thick, wavy hair to try and angle his face away from my clit. The pleasure is so hot, my muscles so tight, all of me poised for this huge explosion, that I’m almost scared to let it happen. Plus, it would be embarrassingly fast. Does that matter? Or is that hot?
I might be trying to push his face away, but the next instant, I’m clutching his hair and steering him closer, sure that if he doesn’t put his tongue inside me and do more wicked things to my clit, I might actually not live to see another minute. I’m also sure this climax might kill me, and it’s a serious catch-22, but one I’m going to have to live with.
He licks me everywhere before he concentrates on my aching, throbbing clit. At first, he’s gentle with his tongue, swirling it teasingly, but then he leans in and open-mouth kisses it, sucking it into his mouth. Hard. I nearly leap right off the counter as I yelp. A second later, my bottom comes crashing back down on top of the wood. The impact jars me, and as I go to throw my head back, I nearly bite my tongue. My yelp turns into a whimper, and my eyes fly open at the sharp burst of pain in my mouth.
I stare at Atlas’ lovely head with all his rich mahogany hair, the copper highlights burnished by the sun streaming through the brand-new kitchen window. I stare at him while he eats my pussy like it really is the world’s best bubblegum ice cream.
Seeing his big head and broad shoulders bent between my thighs is all it takes to throw me over the edge.
I’ve read plenty of romance books, so I know all about this part. I’ve even given myself a few orgasms over the years—duh, I said I was shy, not a saint—but this.
Oh my god, this.
This isn’t anything like what I felt before. I can’t breathe, can’t swallow past the lump in my throat. My stomach muscles contract and turn to stone like I’ve been laughing for hours and hours, those deep belly laughs that actually hurts after. My thighs tremble so hard that they knock against Atlas’ shoulders while my heels slide all over his back as I try and dig them in.
“Atlas…” I cry his name. “Atlas, oh my god!” I clutch his hair, holding on like his head is a life raft that’s there to keep me from sinking into the stormy seas sweeping me under, sucking me into their deep abyss. The pleasure is so wicked hot that I can’t keep still.
I writhe against the countertop, arch against Atlas’ face, and ride and grind and gyrate while I split apart into a hundred thousand gumballs. I mean pieces. Because I’m not really bubblegum ice cream, and instead of gumballs or even real gum, that has more of those little candy pieces in it that dissolve on your tongue.
Atlas doesn’t let up. He consumes me with his tongue, lapping up my arousal as I soak his face. He’s gentler now, and he doesn’t suckle my clit again since I’m pretty sure he knows that would send me through the roof. I come until I’m a melted puddle of ice cream all over my new countertop. I sag against Atlas’ face, and he supports me with his big hands to keep me from falling over straight onto the floor.
I want to thank him for the best climax of my life. My first with another person, but then he does wild things with his tongue, lapping at my core and thighs until I’m sure there isn’t a drop of my climax left, and I am soaking.
Without a word, Atlas stands up. He braces his hands on the countertop at either side of my legs, leaning over me while he claims my mouth. I love the sharp, erotic taste of my climax on his tongue. My clit throbs hard, and my ovaries check out at the sexiness of the kiss. My legs are still trembling, and the aftershocks of that big O are still ripping through my lady bits, but I manage to arch my face and whisper huskily in Atlas’ ear.
