I’d never made it a secret that I not only enjoyed sex but that I’d had my fair share of it. Suffice it to say, I’d been around the block a few more times than was common at twenty-three.
But never in my life had I come so hard.
I couldn’t even see straight, the blinding pleasure making my vision swim. It could’ve been the alcohol buzzing in my veins, but that had been there before we fucked, and my eyesight had been only slightly blurry, so I discounted it.
I was so out of it that I couldn’t recall if he’d gotten off yet.
Before I could regain my bearings, I was flipped over. Trying to focus my eyes, I honed in on the monster jutting out from between his thighs.
Either he hadn’t come yet, or he was ready to go again, though that was doubtful for someone his age. Not that I knew exactly how old he was, but it was a best guess that he was in his early to mid-thirties. Hell, I didn’t evenknow his name. This was entirely out of character for me, but I needed something to break the cycle. So far, so good.
As I lay there sated, my limbs heavy, he knelt on the bed, crawling toward me. In the dim lighting, he looked like one of those big jungle cats whose eyes glowed in the dark as they stalked their prey. His sweat-dampened hair had fallen over one eye, and when he came within reach, I pushed it away, grazing my fingers over his temple. Those brilliant green depths flared, and his slick body covered mine.
“Guess we have our answer.” His head lowered to trace the line of my collarbone with his tongue.
“What?” My breathing was so choppy that my reply came out sounding more like a pant.
Lifting enough to give me a stunning view of his handsome face, a corner of his lips turned up in a smirk. “It’s both. You’re a moaner and curser. And, love, it was so fucking hot that I can’t wait to witness it again.”
“Again?” There was a panicked edge to my rising voice.
Those green eyes darkened, and his voice deepened. “Oh yes. Again and again and again. I’m nowhere near done with you yet.”
I’d barely survived the first orgasm, and he wanted to givemore? Who was this man, and what kind of sex god was he?
Honestly, most of my former bed partners were more interested in their own pleasure than mine. I thought that was how the world worked. Foreplay was usually a means to an end.
Nothing came close to the spanking I’d received from Green Eyes. Each sharp crack had sent a bolt of pleasure straight to my clit, and I was throbbing for him by the time he finally decided I’d had enough.
My ass was still stinging, but I didn’t mind. Tomorrow, I would have a souvenir of our night of passion.
Busy in my thoughts, I hadn’t noticed the man above me slinking down my body until he was situated between my thighs, and his tongue dragged a path through my slit.
I nearly convulsed on the spot. “Jesus fucking Christ!”
There was humor in his tone as he pulled away just far enough to speak. “Still a little sensitive, love?”
“A little?” I huffed out. Was he being serious right now? Did he not remember that mere moments ago, he had been aggressively pinching and pulling on my clit until I came?
Thumbs stroked soothing circles along my inner thighs. “I’ve been dying to taste you all night, beautiful. The tiny sampling earlier only made me crave you more. Please?”
Was this an older guy thing? That they enjoyed going down on women? Sure, we’d been flirting at the bar about the fact that shooting whiskey straight meant he wasn’t afraid to do it, but I’d thought it was a line. I had certainly heard my fair share of them over the years, designed to get me into bed with promises that were never fulfilled, so the bar of my expectations was set pretty low.
But this man was telling me he enjoyed it so much that he was willing to beg for it?
To this point, every guy I’d been with viewed it as a chore, and I would lay bets they pretended to be bad at it so I would tell them to stop, and we could move on to other activities they were more interested in.
If he knows how to fuck, maybe he knows how to eat out a woman properly. And he seems to want it, so who am I to stop him?
I threw an arm over my eyes but nodded. I hadn’t made eye contact since he’d gone down there, but I knew he had been watching for my reaction, my consent, because he threw one of my thighs over his broad shoulders, and I felt his breath fanning my sensitive flesh.
Instead of going straight for my pleasure center, this time, he speared his tongue deep inside me, mimicking the thrusts of his cock. My back arched off the bed, and my free hand tangled in his hair, urging him on. His hum of pleasure vibrated against me, and a moan flew past my lips.
One giant hand skimmed over my stomach until it reached my breast. Palming it gently at first, he dragged a thumb over the sensitive peak, and I gasped. Every nerve ending felt like it was exposed after that first orgasm, and every touch was now amplified. I wasn’t sure a person could die from pleasure overload, but I had a feeling I was about to find out.
His tongue moved back to where it had started with a flicking pass over my clit. I wanted to shy away, to escape the intense sensations, but his grip on my hip held me in place. Heat licked up my spine, spreading out to my extremities as he ate at me like a starving man who would never get his fill.
My grip on his hair tightened, pulling on the dark strands as my climax drew nearer. I bucked against his face, my body begging for more while my brain screamed that it was too much.
