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I’ve had men go down on me before. Most of the time, they don’t know what they’re doing. As in, they can’t figure out what feels good or what’s going to make me come. Of course, I’m not the most comfortable when it comes to expressing my needs to a man while I’m having sex with him. I don’t moan and scream and carry on like I’m participating in an exorcism.
Look, I watch porn. I’ve seen the way some of those women ‘act.’ Heavy emphasis on the last word. They thrash about as if they’re having a seizure and sex has never, ever been like that for me.
But the moment I feel Cam’s lips on my most intimate parts, I about shoot off the bed. He licks and sucks everywhere, leaving no part of me untouched. It’s almost embarrassing, how thoroughly he searches me with his tongue, his big hands braced on my inner thighs, keeping me spread open for him.
It’s so fucking hot. I can hardly take it.
His tongue toys with my clit, teasing it. Circling it, sucking it between his lips. He massages my thighs, his hands slipping downward, close to my ass, giving it a squeeze before he slips his hands all the way around my butt, holding me to him as he feasts on my pussy. There is seriously no other way to describe it.
The man is devouring me.
Everything inside me tingles with every stroke of his tongue. My skin is on fire and I’m panting, my heart racing, like I can’t catch my breath. I feel like I could black out at any moment, and when he slides a finger inside me, his lips wrapped tightly around my clit, that’s it.
I’m coming.
Oh God, I’mscreaming.
It’s like I’m having an out of body experience. Like my soul just slipped from my body and drifted above it for a moment, staring down at the picture we make. Cam’s head buried between my legs, my hands gathering the comforter fabric in my fists, like I needed to clutch something or else I’d slip away completely.
When I finally come to, it’s only to realize I’ve now got my hands in his hair and I’m trying to shove him away from me with my feet on his shoulders, and he’s chuckling.
Laughing.
I swear to God, he’s Satan wrapped up in a sexy, ab-tastic package.
He’s still chuckling, wiping his face against the inside of my thigh because, oh my God, did I like, squirt or whatever? I didn’t even think that was actually possible.
“I-I don’t normally do that,” I finally say to him, once I’ve found my voice.
“Do what?”
“Shout.” I meet his gaze, wincing. “Why? Did I do—something else?”
“Define something else.”
“I can’t.” I cover my face with my hands, suddenly mortified. The man had his face all up in my private parts only moments ago and suddenly I’m embarrassed? What is wrong with me?
He shifts so he’s lying next to me, and he peels my hands off my face, his gaze warm and sexy and oh so comforting when I finally stare into his eyes. “Don’t be embarrassed.”
“I came really hard,” I say, my voice small. “I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard in my life.”
“Keep talking.”
I swat at his chest. “I’m not trying to feed your ego. I’m trying to be real with you.”
“Well, you’re doing both.” He leans in, brushing my mouth with his and I can taste myself on his lips. “And it was hot, the way you shouted my name.”
“Cam…”
He kisses me again, essentially shutting me up with his lips, and I lose myself in his kiss for a while. The expert stroke of his tongue. I can feel his heavy erection press into me, reminding me that the poor man is probably suffering from a serious case of blue balls and I slide my hand down his chest, slipping beneath the waistband of his shorts, pausing at my discovery.
I break the kiss, raising my brows when he opens his eyes. “You’re just as bad, Camden.”
“What makes you say that?” The defiant tone of his voice tells me he already knows exactly what I’m talking about.
“You’re not wearing any underwear either.” I am touching warm skin, pubic hair tickling my fingers. I shift lower, my fingers grazing his shaft, and he hisses in a breath. “You’re bad, Cam.”
“Just like you. Looks like we’re a perfect match.”
