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Her pussy. Her orgasms. Her moans and screams.
I flicked her clit with my tongue, rimmed her entrance with a finger. Circled both, around and around. Watched her carefully for how she tensed, gasped, melted.
Then I added a finger, pressing against her g-spot I’d discovered the week before.
By the time she was coming on my face and fingers, her thighs were pressed into my ears, her fingers tangled in my hair, her juices soaking my short beard.
“Fuck!” she cried, clenching around my finger, a glorious dousing of her arousal dripping down and onto my palm. Her clit pulsed and lengthened against my tongue, and I didn’t stop. She came once. She’d come again. “This is insane, I can’t believe… what was that…more, yes, don’t stop.”
She was uninhibited in her need. Focused on her pleasure. Mindless.
Because of me.
After I was done with her, she wouldn’t even remember Tom’s name or any guy from Vegas.
I didn’t ease up. The opposite. I added a second finger, pressed and curled on her g-spot as I sucked at her clit some more.
“Theo, too much. Slow down, no more! Don’t stop. Oh!”
Yes, my name. She knew who was between her thighs. Knew who gave her pleasure.
She was incredibly responsive, highly orgasmic, regardless of what she thought about herself. The second time she came was gentler, but intense because all her muscles relaxed except her inner walls, gushing and milking my fingers as if wishing it was my dick.
Sweaty, panting, and sated, Mallory didn’t move. Didn’t bring her legs together when I sat back on my heels and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.
“I love eating pussy, Mallory,” I told her.
I wanted my mouth on her some more, but I had to stop.
I’d shown her what it was like to get her pussy nice and eaten. Given her orgasms that would ruin her for anyone else. She was perfect. Her pussy was perfect. I was addicted. Possessive. I wasn’t done with her. I wanted to get my dick inside her, watch her squirm and shift as she adjusted to being crammed full, but not now. Not at Mav’s house.
“Fair warning.” I stood, took in how perfect she was, bare and wanton, wrecked and completely ruined. Yeah, Tom was out of the fucking picture because no one would see Mallory like this but me. Because I did this to her.
Total. Fucking. Caveman.
The only thing better than the sight before me would be to see my cum dripping from her.
Soon.
I shifted my dick again, then headed for the door. My job here was done.
21
MALLORY
From my spotat the back of the assembly room–a strategic location so parents and teachers were spaced around the room–I watched as Mrs. Fujikawa, Ethan’s mom, shared with all three first-grade classes about her job as an architect. It was the annual first-grade career day, which meant the entire morning was devoted to various parents sharing fun facts about their jobs. So far we’d heard from a woman on ski patrol at the resort, a dad who ran wilderness trips, and another who was a sign language interpreter.
Ethan was the speaker’s third child, so she had a knack for keeping the kids engaged.
All eighty of them were seated around a semicircle of risers completely enthralled because she just finished using a glue gun and popsicle sticks to quickly build a little bridge. As she did so, she explained how it was an architect’s job to make sure it was sturdy by using triangles and math. She stopped and got the kids doing a drum roll as she placed a brick on the top to prove it.
The kids gasped and murmured in awe at how it held up. It was pretty impressive.
Regina, one of the other first-grade teachers, joined the woman at the front, thanking her for her presentation, directing the kids to share their thanks. They clapped and Ethan ran up to his mom and gave her a hug–and snagged the popsicle stick bridge to show off later.
“I’m not sure if I can top that.”
A familiar voice cut through the excited chatter of all the kids.
