“Fuck, I’ve been thinking about this almost non-stop since you kissed me on Wednesday,” I admit as I plant teasing kisses along the inside of her leg.
“I didn’t,” Blondie starts to say, then gasps, biting the back of her hand.
I lift my head and shoot her a dubious look. “Didn’t what? Kiss me? Now, now, Blondie,” I coo, “no need to be embarrassed. Besides…” Another kiss—this one closer to the apex of her thigh, making her tremble beneath my lips. “I like a woman who can take charge.”
I push her dress up until her hips are exposed, and start salivating at the sight of her lacy white panties and the obvious damp spot forming at the center of the thin fabric. I let my fingers trail just over the edge of the lace, teasing her for a fleeting moment, relishing the whine that escapes her. Then, leaning forward, I close my mouth around her—underwear and all. She bucks beneath my lips, letting out a hoarse, “Fuck!” that has me smiling against her heat.
Deciding I’ve teased her enough, I pull back, then deftly slide her panties down her long legs before chucking them onto the floor somewhere behind me.
“I am going to devour you,” I purr, bowing my head again to make good on that promise.
Blondie’s back arches at the first hot sweep of my tongue, and I moan as I close my mouth around her again, sucking and licking until she’s a trembling mess. Her hands comb through my hair, gripping the strands with ferocious demand, and pulling me to her as she bucks, writhing against my face. I lave at her clit, alternating between broad strokes and taunting circles, absolutely consumed by the knowledge thatIam the one doing this to her.Iam making her lose herself.
And I am losing myself, too. Each shift of her hips only stokes the fire burning inside me, and I dip a bit lower, probing her entrance with the tip of my tongue, teasing her just enough to make her whimper. She’s so sweet, so fucking responsive, and I’m lost in the taste of her, in the feel of her pulsing against my mouth.
After a few minutes of this, I pull back, needing to see her face—to see what I’m doing to her—and her wrecked expression nearly has me coming untouched. My jeans are so tight now it’s agonizing. I trace the shape of her clit with my thumb while my other hand moves to free my cock.
“Why’d you stop?” I hear Blondie ask, her voice a thready gasp, and I flash her a devilish grin before kissing the dip where her leg meets her pelvis.
“I was just wondering if I should tell you what you taste like,” I murmur against her skin, and she shudders from the heat of my breath. “Don’t worry, it’s good,” I promise.
I lick her again, and she groans when I slide a finger inside her slick entrance, my hand working in tandem with my tongue. With my other hand, I slowly stroke myself—not enough to come, but just enough to stave off the ache. For now.
Blondie’s breaths grow more rapid with each ravenous swipe of my tongue, and I sense her impending release amoment before it happens as her inner walls tighten. She presses something—a pillow, I assume—to her face, muffling the desperate wail that slips from her with one last lick to her clit. I close around her again, unhurried and deliberate, savoring the sweet, heady taste of her climax, the pulse of her orgasm trembling against my tongue.
Sitting back on my heels, I let go of my cock, lest the night come to a premature conclusion, then rising, I climb onto the bed, hovering over Blondie on all fours. The pillow is still propped against her face, though she no longer holds it there, her arms spread out beside her, her body perfectly still aside from her chest, which rises and falls in a steady rhythm. I pull the pillow away, needing to see it—the blissed-out ecstasy I’m certain I’ll find on her face. I saw what she looked like in the heat of the moment, and now, I need to see what she looks like when she’s been thoroughly taken apart. By me.
Blondie’s eyes are hazy, and a loose laugh bubbles out of her throat when she meets my gaze, her dimples popping out to greet me. God, she’s beautiful. I want to kiss her, and I lean in to do so before second-guessing myself. Maybe I shouldn’t. Some women aren’t okay with that—not after what I just did. Not with the taste of her lingering on my lips.
But as I’ve already come to realize, Blondie isn’t like the other women I’ve pursued. She reaches an arm around my back, pulls me down, and locks our mouths together without hesitation.
This kiss is chaste, soft, and when it’s over, I just look at her—at the heat in her cheeks, the swollen plumpness to her lips. At those beautiful green eyes, which shine with an emotion I don’t recognize. It’s definitely not one I’ve ever seen in the eyes of the other women I’ve been with.
Whatever it is, it fades before I can try to make sense of it. Next thing I know, Blondie is dipping her eyes to my erection, which hangs between us, neglected and leaking. With a coysmile, she reaches down and wraps her soft fingers around my length, coaxing a groan to slip free of my lips. Closing my eyes, I drop my head into the crook of her neck.
“Can I fuck you?” I whisper, wincing at the nervous waver in my voice.
Christ, I sound like a pre-teen who just asked the girl he likes to dance.
Blondie stills, and an ice-cold dread washes through me. Was that the wrong thing to say? She might have let me go down on her, but am I being presumptuous thinking she’d want to do more despite what she said on Halloween?
Those fears fall away like autumn leaves when she laughs. “Honestly? I might murder you if you don’t.”
Relief barrels through me, but it dissipates when a terrible realization hits me. “Shit.”
“What?”
I sink back onto my knees and straighten, running a hand through my hair. “I…wasn’t exactly expecting this to happen,” I admit, furious with Past Damian for being so short-sighted, “so I didn’t bring anything.”
Blondie immediately catches my meaning. “Oh. Well…” She bites her lip, that contemplative expression returning. Finally, coming to some internal decision, she shrugs and says, “I’m on the pill. And besides, I’m nowhere close to my fertile window, so we should be good.”
I bark out a startled laugh. “Fertile window?”
She looks at me as if I’m stupid. “Yeah, you know. Ovulation?”
“Women actually keep track of that?” I ask.
Blondie purses her lips. “What, like it’s hard? It’s just simple math.”
