As wedding receptions go, this one was okay. It wasn’t as fun as last summer’s Fourth of July get-together, but it was better than Uncle Skeeter’s funeral from two years ago.
“Having fun?” a smooth voice asked from behind me.
The sudden deep timbered voice made me whirl around. And wouldn’t you know it, there he was, staring back with those dark intense eyes.
Fuck me. I think my girlie parts just swooned!
“Not really.”
“Me either. Wanna get out of here?” He winked, holding out his hand. “Come on. I know the perfect place.”
Sure. Why not?Anything was better than watching my family do the Chicken Dance.
The second he walked me into a storage closet and shut the door, his lips were on mine.
Okay.
No names.
I’m cool with that.
God, the taste of warm cinnamon and baked apples that exploded in my mouth was a burst of pure magic. The way his mouth expertly suckled and pulled with precise pressure led to me grinding on him with the skill and intensity of a professional stripper during Mardi Gras. I moaned, a low sound lost in hismouth, as his tongue traced the edges of my teeth with a slow, deliberate glide better than any oral hygienist I’d ever met.
This wasn’t just a kiss.
This was mouth fucking at its best!
His rough hands, calloused and warm, swept up my body, brushing over the fabric of my clothes. Then, one hand, surprisingly cool against my skin, slipped beneath my shirt, igniting a fiery trail across my burning flesh. I hissed when his nails clawed at my back.
It was a good pain though; one I thoroughly enjoyed as I ground myself against him, feeling his thick, hard cock. His lips trailed down my neck, first suckling on my earlobe then down to my collarbone and back up to lick lightly below my chin.
I shivered and sucked in a deep breath.
He pulled back and gasped, “Fuck me.”
“What’s stopping you?” I winked.
He growled as his hands traveled up my thigh to get under my skirt, where his fingers trailed over my bare pussy.
Public Announcement #1: A girl can never be too careful or prepared. You never know when some smoking hot stud is determined to have his wicked way with you in a storage closet.
I squeaked as he positioned one hand on my hip to keep me in place before he flicked my clit.
And that, my girlfriends, was game over because when he pinched my clit, I threw my head back, and I gave myself completely over to the sex God before me.
My hands on his shoulders tried to gain some sort of ground when my body moved of its own accord, as he pinched harder. My hips ground hard against his hand. I was so close. I was already beginning to tense up, biting my lower lip, silently pleading with every deity I knew to bless this sex God with the strength of a thousand Thors to never stop.
“Oh, hell yes!” I screamed, just as the finger-fucker removed his fingers. “What the hell?!”
I gasped at being denied the only damn good thing at this reception.
Smug fucker had the nerve to smirk at me. Before I could even open my mouth to cuss him out, his fingers plunged into me deeply, and I came. Hard.
I didn’t mean to. Well, I was already on the precipice of an orgasm, so it just happened. Had to give the God of Finger-Fucking props. No one had ever made me come so quickly and with just their fingers. Yeah, I wasn’t ashamed to admit I was groaning and squeezing his shoulders tightly as I threw my head back and rode out wave after wave of exquisite pleasure as I heard the DJ queue up the “Macarena.”
Gawd, someone please save me from line dances!
“Wow,” he mumbled, his eyes intensely watching me as he grabbed my face and ravaged my mouth once more.
