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“Luke.”
My name on her lips spurred me on. I pushed her knees apart and undid the button and zipper on her jeans and rucked them down her thighs, positioning myself between them.
I pressed my lips to the skin of her inner thigh before biting down savagely into her flesh. She shuddered.
I ran my finger down her seam, over the lace of her little black panties.
She threaded her hands in my hair and pulled so hard I growled.
“Sorry,” she said, breathlessly.
“Don’t. I like it rough.”
She moaned something that vaguely sounded likeme tooand that was all I needed to know. I loved it when a woman got loud and wild and let me know she liked something. And Cindy wasn’t holding back.
I tore off her underwear and dove between her legs, circling her opening with my tongue. The sweet, heady scent of her filled my airways.
“Fuck, Luke, fuck, that’s good,” she seethed.
I shifted to tease and suck on her clit and ate her out like a starving man. She arched and struggled under me, her heels digging into my back. I yanked her closer, getting messy, lapping at her, grazing her clit with my teeth.
She writhed beneath me, her cries getting louder. Her body went rigid. Her legs shook. She threw her head back.
“Luke… Fuck, I’m close.”
I slipped a finger inside her, then a second, and she clenched around them, getting louder as she got closer and closer.
“Come on, baby,” I whispered. “Come for me and let me taste it.”
“Say it again.”
“Come for me.”
“No, the other part.” Her voice was breathy and barely a whisper. “Call mebaby.”
“Come for me, baby.”
At my command, she tensed and moaned my name, coming hard, trapping me between her thighs, where I was a willing captive. I kept my mouth on her as her orgasm ripped through her. As it wrecked her.
It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
She lay there for a moment with her eyes closed, sweat drying on her skin, catching her breath.
“Luke,” she whispered.
“Luke!”
The second iteration of my name was less than pleasant. And it was coming from downstairs.
“Fuck,” I groaned.
“Luke, it’s eight o’clock. I’m going to be late for poker,” my mother called from the bottom of the staircase.
If my mother’s shrill voice wasn’t a bucket of ice water dumped over my head, I don’t know what was.
“Give me a fucking minute, Ma,” I yelled back.
“Fuck,” Cindy said, sitting up suddenly and hurrying to cover herself with a sheet. “How much of that do you think she heard?”
