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His tongue sucks at me as his finger pumps in and out of me. I gasp his name and fist my hands in his hair.
‘I want you to sit on my face,’ he says.
He doesn’t wait for an answer.
He flops down on the bed and lifts me by my thighs. His tongue darts in and out of me, and I watch as he strokes himself.
I don’t know why, but I lean down and take him into my mouth. He tastes like salt, but I like it, especially as I grind my hips against him, as his tongue laps and sucks at me.
Cassie has reassured me numerous times how you don’t really need to know what you’re doing, as long as you’re confident, because men love confidence.
I moan around his cock and move my hips back against him, pushing myself deeper into him for more friction—
Release hits me again, and this time, it’s euphoric.
Archer’s tongue laps it all up.
I keep thinking he’s cummed, too, but I’m too ashamed to ask, and he’s still hard, so I don’t think he has. I don’t know what cum looks like, or feels like, or tastes like. But now my jaw starts to ache and my lips are sore and puffy and I just sort of want him to finish.
I’m not horny anymore, but his finger still feels really good. He inserts another, and another, and another, until he’s filled me. There’s a bit of a pinch, but it’s bearable.
Each finger is a step closer to having him inside of me.
‘Frankie,’ he says.
I think he’s saying it in pleasure, but he taps my leg, and I pull up.
‘Yeah?’
‘Can I cum on your tits?’ he asks. He thrusts slightly, as if the mere thought of it makes him hungry.
I nod. ‘Okay.’
It takes him forty minutes, and by the time he’s done, he’s panting and sweating and he flops down on the bed. I ask if he’s alright, but the only answer is a snore.
He’s sleeping.
When I step out into the hall, I’m shocked to find Chase there. He sits on a window seat across from Archer’s bedroom. His elbows are braced on his knees; he glances up at me, and I feel more naked now than I did with Archer.
How much did he hear? How long has he been sitting there? Even though it’s ridiculous, it feels like Archer’s room is made out of glass and Chase watched the entire thing unfold.
I’m just being paranoid. He didn’t hear anything.
‘Are you okay?’ He sounds tired, but his eyes are hard.
It’s bright in here. I didn’t realise I was still a bit drunk until the smell of pizza wafts from downstairs and makes my stomach roil.
‘No,’ I say. ‘I feel sick.’
He doesn’t smile. ‘Do you want me to walk you home?’
I nod, but then I shake my head.
‘You don’t?’
I barge through the nearest door and hope it’s a bathroom. I throw up in the toilet, and a moment later, Chase holds back my hair.
I think I pass out draped across the toilet seat, because I jerk awake to throw up again. Darkness narrows my vision, and I can’t look up because the room spins, but if I close my eyes I fall through blackness.
