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Pressure built in my core as I lost myself in the sensations. I tipped over the edge, watching my pussy grind against his tongue. God, he was fucking hot.
I came hard, my thighs gripping his head tightly as I rode out the last waves of orgasm, bliss spreading through me. It had been too long.
Before I’d even come down from the high, he flipped me onto the floor and kissed me roughly, desperately. I whimpered as he pressed his fingers into my pussy.
‘I’m not done,’ he said with a ragged breath. ‘I want to make you cry out like that.’
‘You did,’ I said, arching my back as he continued to finger me with slow, sure strokes.
‘No, you showed me how, but now it’s my turn.’
‘You don’t have t--‘
I lost any protest when he curled his fingers up into me just as he stole another kiss, allowing me to taste myself on his lips.
‘When you whimper, it makes me need more. Every little noise you make is like a potent drug. I’m addicted to it. When I make you see stars this time, I want my name on your tongue.’
‘Yes.’ I licked at his neck as he spoke, my hips grinding against his arm as he splayed me with his hand.
‘You needed more,’ he said, biting at my shoulder as he slipped another finger inside me.
‘I did,’ I whimpered. Then he slid back down between my thighs, both of us on the floor as he added his tongue to the pleasure he was inducing with his fingers.
The slow thrusts inside me made my head spin, and he concentrated his tongue on my already swollen clit. It didn’t take long until I’d lost any sense of decorum, writhing and moaning beneath his touch.
‘Holy shit,’ I cried, digging my nails into his shirt as he drove me to the edge. ‘Don’t stop. Amor. Please!’
I heard a deep chuckle as he continued his onslaught until I exploded against him. My entire body quaked as he continued to eat, a surprised noise coming from him.
Breathless.
I felt like I was floating.
‘I didn’t know women could come like men,’ he said at last, sounding perplexed.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You soaked me.’
Battling to connect my brain back to my body, I sat up and looked at him. His shirt darkened from the collar to the chest. He wiped his soaked chin with his hand.
‘They don’t always. I’ve never squirted before.’
‘So, is that a good thing?’ he said with hesitation.
‘You passed the lesson with flying colours. A-fucking-star.’
As we stood, I couldn’t help but notice the absolute tent in his trousers. Wonder-boy was packing.
‘Come on, let’s get cleaned up.’
I found one of Pop’s old shirts as he washed in the men’s room and marvelled as he slipped the other one off. Black tattoos covered his thickly muscled chest and arms. When he turned, I spotted two chunky red scars down his back.
‘What happened?’ I asked.
He looked at his back in the mirror, his eyes widening.
‘Nothing.’
