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“I can finger fuck you until you come on me,” I rasp, noting the stab of her head and the shudder in her moan of reply. “Or I can lick you until you come all over my face. Would you like that?” I croon, feeling her pussy tighten and twitch against my fingers as if the very words could make her come for me.
“Or… or you could do both,” she recommends with a sudden jolt and another loud gasp. I move her easily with my free arm so she’s up on the table, her legs navigating their way over my shoulders as I pry her legs wider, swearing to myself when I see her virgin pussy for the first time. In seconds, I’m still finger fucking her already creaming slit, taking a moment to inhale her scent before forcing my grin from the lips that want to taste her for the first time.
The same hand I’ve lifted her over to the table with scrapes palm side flat, firmly all over her belly and up under her flimsy pajama wear, greedily cupping and squeezing one of her stiff nippled breasts. Those nipples are like bullets and as hot and sensitive as her clit. Once the three-way connection between my mouth, her clit, and her nipples is complete, it’s like pulling the pin out of a grenade. I want to explode.
“Bow-Bowdie!” she gasps, gripping my hair so hard I grunt, not minding one bit how hard she wants to grab, scratch, or bite. As long as she’s moaning and about to come with that river I’m dying to taste, she can pull my damned hair out by the roots if she has to. She croaks as she tries to say my name, but there’s time for that. Her first climax, courtesy of a real man’s tongue and hands, can be however she likes it.
In a millisecond, I know she’s done, unable to hold back the tidal wave of her arousal as it peaks, flooding my mouth with the rich taste of her sweet, virginal essence. Her whole body stiffens before she shudders uncontrollably. The deep hum of my groans vibrates through her, sending her over the edge into an orgasm that looks, feels, and tastes like she’ll remember it forever.
“Good girl,” I praise her, proud of her and wanting her more than ever. I’m also satisfied in a way I never knew I could be without even having my dick anywhere near her perfect little hole, winking at me as she rides little aftershocks.
I’m far from done, though, and going back for more. I feel her hands tugging at my hair. Her shivered breaths and still convulsing pussy command my full attention. I feel it as much as she does. Kissing her is like nothing else, and keeping her chest busy with my hands, I move my mouth and face from her creaming valley, eagerly seeking her mouth.
Tasting her mouth and her pussy at the same time makes me groan harder, trying and failing not to kiss her too hard or squeeze her too rough. She matches every ounce of pressure from my grip, showing me she might be a virgin, but that doesn’t mean she’s made of glass.
When we come up for air, she’s trying to say something. She’s trying to tell me she’s a virgin, but her mouth only opens and closes. Her eyes are misty with post-climax emotions—eyes I kiss closed and return to her mouth. She doesn’t need to explain anything. She’s perfect, and having staked my claim, I feel like that’s how things will be from now on.
Beth and Bowdie… perfect… the way it should be.
CHAPTERELEVEN
Beth
I could’ve died happy if he’d just kissed me. That would’ve been enough, said no girl ever after a tongue-lashing like that from a man like Bowdie. I want his kisses. Hell yeah, but I want his mouth right where it just was and those huge, fuck-me fat fingers filling me until I want to burst all over them.
Bowdie’s woken up more than just my need to not be a virgin anymore. He’s turned both keys and given the codes for thermonuclear-sized orgasms and lots of ’em. After I try to hold it as long as I can, not knowing I could come so hard so soon, I think I’d literally lose my mind if he didn’t give me a minute to let the longest and hardest climax of my life ebb a little before he starts over.
Tasting myself on him might have sounded gross if Lucy had described her and that man-child, Josh, doing the same, but with Bowdie, it’s the most natural, beautiful, and hottest thing I’ve had in my mouth all day if I do say so myself.
I understand now why I was so eager to finger fuck myself like never before. It’s as if my body somehow knew that today was “F” day with Bowdie, loosening myself up and making sure I could take him. If his thick and insanely long fingers are anything to go by, Dr. Bigg is big by name as well as by nature. I used to swallow every time at the thought, but that other part of me? It can hardly wait now.
Trying to tell him I’ve never done this before just doesn’t come out like I’m screaming it in my mind. My body’s too busy trying to scream his name for real, but Bowdie seems to know what I mean, belaying all my doubts and worries. I forget all my self-conscious silliness every time he touches me, especially when he does whatever he’s doing to make me want to do nothing but this all day, every day, forever if possible, please.
It already feels like forever, just this feeling and having him so close to me. I really should be dreaming. As the mother of all orgasms subsides in me a little, the kitchen comes back into focus. The table underneath me is where my dad probably just ate his breakfast. My best friend's father is wearing my creaming orgasm like a little milk mustache.
It all snaps back into focus so fast I almost lose the feeling. I almost feel as if I’ve done something wrong, but that’s something I know could never come from Bowdie or me. It would only be other people who could never understand.
“What’s the matter?” Bowdie asks, suddenly concerned, glancing over his shoulder once my eyes dart around the room instead of focusing on his.
“I-it’s just… Where’s Lucy!?” I suddenly gasp, clutching my chest as if I have a chance of covering it. My legs are still splayed across Bowdie’s hulking chest, and his hands are gripping parts of me nobody’s ever seen, let alone touched.
I don’t mean to put a dampener on things, but it hits me like a bucket of ice water, what we just did. I mean, what we’re doing. Maybe it’s just me so used to having Lucy as my shadow. I’m asking all the wrong questions a little too late, but Bowdie seems to feel the same once he picks up on my sudden agitation. “She’s home…nesting,” he adds with a wry smile, making my ears prick for a reason other than hearing she’s stayed home instead of coming with him for her things.
“Nesting?” I ask him, pouting when he shifts my legs down so I don’t look like a complete dissection specimen on the table, even though if I was painted green, I could pass for a frog the way my legs are. “Why would you say that?” I add, making him groan before he runs his hands through his hair and holds them over his eyes.
I’ve got my own Lucy theories, but hearing Bowdie say she’s “nesting” makes me wonder how much he knows about his daughter and Josh. Even though he’s quick to shrug and brush it off, it really stands out in my mind for some reason.
The secret my own best friend couldn’t tell me? Maybe, but without meaning to sound like a complete, selfish bitch, right now, who cares? Even that’s not a hundred percent true.
It’s obvious I’ve kinda killed the moment by mentioning her, but Bowdie seems just as aware of our surroundings as I am. Heck, he was even drinking coffee from my dad’s own mug.
What would Dad say if—
Gulp.
What would Dad say if he saw the two of us right now?
“Dad never comes home during the day,” I’m quick to volunteer, not wanting the inevitable to ruin something that’s only just started. “I want this… I want you, Bowdie,” I’m quicker to add, surprising myself with the need inside that has me clutching at him and begging him in my mind not to stop. Not now, not ever.
