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“Say it,” he orders.
“I want to come,” I whisper.
He pauses. “Can you come from this?” he asks, gripping my breasts in his strong hands. They look obscene, overflowing in his hands. “From your tits?”
“Maybe.”
“Fuck, let’s find out.” He experiments with different amounts of suction, more tongue less tongue, and when he draws as much of my breast into his mouth as he can and pinches my othernipple ruthlessly, little firecrackers of pleasure explode in my veins.
I writhe against him, and then it’s happening. The orgasm slams into me, and I cry out his name. When it’s over, he keeps sucking until I’m boneless and panting.
He pulls back and looks at me, his eyes full of awe. “You really are something else.” He kisses me softly. “That was fucking incredible.”
“I didn’t know I could have an orgasm from that.”
“Let’s see what other things we can discover,” he says, and suddenly I can’t wait for what comes next.
I want to not be a virgin anymore. I want to experience everything that sex has to offer, with Griffin.
I reach for the hem of his t-shirt. How is it that I have a rock star in my bed and he’s still fully clothed?
He grins. “You want something?”
I nod. “Take it off,” I say, my voice husky with desire.
He smirks, and then obliges, lifting his shirt slowly, revealing a toned, tanned body. I take a second to appreciate the view before I move closer to trace the tattoo over his heart with my tongue.
“Mallory,” he groans, and I love the sound of my name on his lips.
He kisses me deeply, and I kiss him back with all the passion I have. Touching his body feels a lot like riding that motorcycle did. Like I’m terrified but so alive and free at the same time.
“Stand up. Let’s get that skirt off you.”
He unzips my pencil skirt and slides it down my hips, surprising me when he hauls me to him and inhales my pussy through my panties.
“God, you smell incredible,” he murmurs against my skin.
I moan, my body quivering. That should be embarrassing, but it’s not. He’s so dirty and uninhibited. How did he end uphere in my childhood bedroom? With me? I’m the opposite of him in every way.
“Anybody eat your pussy before, Sunday School?”
“No.”
“Then it looks like I get to be the first.”
He slides my panties down my legs and pulls me onto my bed. I look up and there’s that damn poster of him looking down on us.
Griff pushes my thighs apart. “Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice full of reverence. “Beautiful. So pink and pretty. All for me.”
Then his tongue is on me, and I’m not thinking about posters or anything else. I’m just focused on the feeling of his mouth, the pleasure he’s creating with every lick. The way he moans his own pleasure at my taste. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and he’s taking his time. I rock against him, wanting more, begging for it.
“Oh, I like that. Beg some more, pretty girl. Beg me to fuck you with my tongue.”
I cannot say that.
Can I?
“Please?”
