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Laughter bubbled up my throat at her need.
If she only knew how long I’d been thinking about this, too.
“We have to be quiet,” I said. “Maybe we should wait until we’re back home for this…”
I didn’t want to, but I was fairly sure that this bus wouldn’t be able to handle what I wanted to give her. Not and keep it not only quiet but motionless.
But I touched her clit anyway, with the tip of my nose, as I breathed in her scent.
“Holy shit,” she breathed, rocking her pussy against my face.
Her wetness coated my lips, and I growled at the way she tasted.
Sweet like honey.
My favorite.
Unable to help myself or care about the other person in the house, I licked her. From perineum to clit, slowly.
She did a full-body shiver when I circled her clit, her hands burying themselves in my hair.
“I did some research,” she panted, her breath hitching when I moved my mouth to the top of her thighs.
“What kind of research?” I asked curiously.
My voice may have sounded steady, but I was anything but. Just the taste of her was doing weird things to my head. Things like me wanting to take her to the courthouse and put my last name at the end of her first name.
“For when you came back,” she answered.
I didn’t think my head was wherever hers was because I was beginning to be confused. Or, quite possibly, her taste was getting to my brain. Either one was a possibility at this point.
“Okay,” I said. “What was it that you learned for when I came back?”
She gestured toward the bus, and I glanced at her as I stuck my tongue out and licked.
Her head fell backward, but she didn’t stop talking as she widened her legs and pushed herself into my mouth.
The taste of her bathed my tongue as I licked her clit, my fingers spreading her pussy lips wide for access.
“Stabilizers,” she whispered. “For the swaying.”
“Are we talking about the windstorm right now?” I asked between laps of my tongue against her clit. “We should be talking about other things.”
The right hand that was holding a pussy lip with a thumb moved, the fingers traveling up and into my mouth for a lick of my fingers before I once again placed them against her.
Eyes on her face, I watched as I penetrated her with one thick digit.
Her throat bobbed, and since that was the only thing I could see since her head was still thrown back, I knew that it affected her in the right way.
“There’s no ‘windstorm,’” she breathed. “You are the ‘windstorm.’”
It dawned on me what she was talking about then.
“I researched how to not make it obvious that you’re having sex on a bus. They suggested stabilizers, suggesting to littles that there would be a windstorm later that night, and having sex with, and not against, the wheels.” She ended that last bit on a moan, causing me to curl my fingers inside of her again, this time much more slowly.
“I need to taste you,” she breathed. “Let me taste you.”
I pushed my fingers in deeper, loving the way she moaned but knowing we needed to keep it quiet.
