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He pulls down my shorts slowly, kissing my mound, then lower as his lips touch the small patch of hair I keep there, and then my slit. He takes his time pulling my legs out of my shorts, and I do nothing, lying there with my hands still on either side of my head, not bothered to fight him back in the slightest.
I want this so badly my heart hurts. A need that pulls at my chest and sets my heart on fire.
I gasp when he palms my thighs. Spreading my legs until he can have a perfect view of my pussy. The shuddered breath he takes tells me it’s a chore to hold himself back.
“Oh, Sweets.” He smiles, but his eyes don’t leave my pussy. “You’re so wet. Look at this desperate little cunt. Are you aching for me?”
He lowers himself, not touching me on purpose, and my thighs shake when he spreads me wider. A hopeless whimper leaves me. I’m burning, ready to let the flames engulf me.
“Tell me,” he growls so close to my clit, his breath makes me tremble. “Tell me where you’re hurting. Daddy will make it better.”
I inhale, doing my best not to talk. I want to sin without engaging actively. Please, just let me pretend this pleasure is not coming straight from the devil.
“Ella.” I squeeze my eyes shut at his sharp voice. “Use your words and I’ll give you what you crave.”
I didn't realize I was holding my breath until I exhale a desperate, “Please.”
“That’s it.” He pinches my pussy lips together, tightening my slit so the chaste, closed-mouthed kiss he leaves on me doesn’t touch my clit. So my needy nub doesn’t get the pleasure it’s dying for. “What do you want? Give it to me and I’ll take care of you.”
“Chris…please…touch me.”
He chuckles, and I feel him shaking his head between my legs. “That’s not what I want to hear, and you know it.”
My trembling breath turns frantic. “P-please.” I gulp. “Please, Daddy.”
“Yes, Little one?” His wet tongue traces my slit, pressing between my lips in the slightest and making me gasp. He’s rewarding me, showing me I’m heading in the right direction.
And I do exactly what he wants. I lose myself.
“Daddy,” I whine. “Please, please, lick me. Fuck me with your tongue.”
“What a good fucking girl,” he growls. His fingers release the pressure on my lips, and instead he spreads me open.
His tongue unleashes on my clit, licking me from my entrance to the tight bundle of nerves, and I release a satisfied moan.
My hand slides to his soft hair, gripping the caramel waves.
“Yes,” I pant. Sparks inflame my desire, and I relish in the dangerous burn.
I push against his tongue, and he rewards me with hard strokes and relentless open-mouthed kisses.
I’m rediscovering sex all over again. I knew no one compared to Chris, but I somehow had forgotten how good intimacy with the right person can feel. I catch myself tightening my legs around his head, harsher cries leaving me as I get closer to the edge.
He doesn’t stop, doesn’t tease anymore. He’s feeding his lust, sucking it right out of me. I explode against him, my body lifting off the mattress as I carelessly scream into the dead of the night.
This mansion is big enough that my room is isolated. Thank God for that.
I drop back on the bed, panting as I finish riding one of the most powerful orgasms I’ve had in a while. Feeling overwhelmed by the sensations, I relax my legs. But he keeps going, his tongue stroking me without stopping.
“Chris,” I whimper. “Too much.”
When I try to pull away, he grips my thighs pushing me against his face harshly. “The first one was for you,” he growls. “The second one is for me.”
I cry out when I feel his tongue pushing into my pussy. “Please….” He moans against me, my despair egging him on. “Chris.”
He pulls away, grabs my hips, and flips me around. “Who am I?”
He pulls at my hips, forcing my knees to rest on the bed while my chest is crushed on the mattress. He spreads my cheeks and slaps my pussy, making me hiss. “Who am I, Ella?”
