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“Please.”
“Mmm,” he loudly hums so that the vibrations can be felt against my pussy, “and it’s gettin’ better.”
“Please, Slater,” I pant at the same time I pull his head forward.
“Almost.” The tip of his tongue lightly touches the very edge of my clit. “There.”
“Please, Slater, please make me come.”
A haughty laugh hits my ears, but I don’t care.
I don’t care about how brazen I sound.
I don’t care about how ridiculous I look.
And I damn sure don’t care about who the fuck hears me scream out the moment his mouth finally latches onto my clit. One long, back bowing suck is followed by another. And another. And another. And another until I realize that his plan isn’t just to get me shrieking but to sexually suffocate me.
To stop me from being able to even get air in my lungs so that they burn for the same reprieve the rest of me is.
With my eyes screwed tightly shut, I rock into the furious feasting while kicking my heels in a wordless encouragement to keep going. To go faster. Slower. To keep the same speed. To do anything or everything as long as it’s something versus the nothing I was getting before. I yank his hair to the same rhythm that I’m releasing crazed moans and wildly bang my head against the floor, simultaneously hoping he moves his efforts lower and stays exactly where he is.
All of a sudden, Slater lazily leads his tongue lower.
Glides the muscle deep inside.
Sluggishly twists and turns it.
Turns it and spins.
Spins and spins and slips his mouth completely away without giving me the climax I’m already painstakingly close to.
Vocalizing my unhappiness with his choice is cut short courtesy of cold, thick cream being spread the entire length of my pussy. There isn’t time to contemplate if I should gasp or object or praise him for adding it to the mix before his entire face is buried in the mixture. An unrelenting oscillation of slow, savage strokes and fast, ferocious licks light every bone in my body on fire, overcooking each one, until I’m burnt.
Breaking apart.
Crumbling and coming on his tongue as it ferally fucks me into another mess that joins the ones already on the floor.
Unlike those, I hope our relationship isn’t so easy to clean up, because honestly?
I love it like this.
And the last thing I would ever want is for it to get washed away.
Chapter 15
Slater
She’s beautiful.
So fucking beautiful.
And brilliant.
Good God almighty is she brilliant. I mean I get gobsmacked every time we start talking about salaries in our favorite sport and she busts out with shit about projected total cap hits, projected end of season cap space, how they’re calculated, and how certain analyzing equations could be used to have teams make better trades. All that shit sounds like a foreign language to me, hell, foreign languages are easier for me to understand than any of that shit, yet both seem to come naturally to her. She’s somehow managed to pick up on the few French phrases she overheard me speaking like it was nothing.
As if she had been born in France and spoke it her entire life.
She’s also give you a toothache sweet.
