“Yes?” He nudges me, nipping on my lower lip. “Tell me.”
I rake my hand into his hair and pull him even closer, if that’s possible, biting his lips harder than he did mine. “I want to come. I want to come, Justin.” Then I lower myself to begging. “Please.”
He smiles and kisses me. Slowly. Too slowly. Then, he grabs me by my waist and pulls me up on the table. My ass touches the cold metal surface and cools down my overheated flesh.
He kisses me again, deep, devouring my mouth with his, interweaving his tongue with mine. I wrap my legs around his waist. The contrast of my heated skin against the rough material of his jeans highlights every feeling I feel. I shamelessly squeeze my thighs and pull him into me with all my might, ready to hump his legs if need be—I'm close, and I'm in need; I don’t care if I act like a hussy, proving the town right. I’ll agree to anything as long as I can reach my high.
He must agree with me because he pushes his pelvis into mine, while at the same time pulling me into him, squeezing my ass hard. But then he suddenly pulls his warmth away, unwrapping my legs from his back. I feel like I’ve just been thrown under a cold shower. He notices my distress because he gives me his signature lopsided grin before he drops to his knees in front of me.
“What—”
His smile grows wider as he hooks his finger under my panties and pulls them off. “I like that your underwear makes my imagination work.” He tells me. My naked pussy touches the metal surface, and I gasp at the contact. Marina is going to kill me if she ever finds out that I wiped this table with my genitalia… Even though we don’t put food here, and even though it’s always been a part of my fantasy, I wouldn’t want Marina to do the same, because ew.
And that's the last coherent thought I have before he grabs me under my thighs and pulls me toward him. My ass is half hanging from the table while he firmly holds me. Before I know it, his mouth is on my hot, swollen flesh, and my head rolls backward. He licks my lips down there: up and down, up and down, before he moves his mouth to my clit. It’s engorged and angry. Demanding attention. The center of my ache.
His finger dips inside me and hooks to reach some magical spot I never dared to touch myself. His thrusts are shallow, but it’s enough to send me into overdrive.
His tongue circles my clit and then sucks on it. Hard.
“Oh fuck.” I curse loudly.
“And she speaks.” I can hear the smile in his voice as he interrupts his assault for a second. I grab him by his hair and pull his head back into me.
“Shut up.” It’s my turn to growl.
His laughter is muted by me pressing his face into my core. He understands the assignment and goes to work, licking, sucking, and even nibbling.
“Oh fuck, Justin.” My eyes roll back as the first wave of orgasm hits me. My ass rears back, and his grip on my quivering thighs becomes stronger as he pulls me back onto his mouth. My hands roam around the table, trying to find the edge so I can hold on to something while Justin’s mouth assaults my pussy.
The second wave hits even harder, and I whimper. Loudly and shamelessly. Something I thought I wouldn't be able to do, but in this moment, when his mouth is doing such wonderful things to my bundle of nerves, I don’t care. I don’t care how I look or how I sound. Now, in this moment, I am free.
When the wave passes and I slowly descend from the high, I dare to look at Justin. His intense eyes are trained on my face as he keeps sucking, holding me in his firm grip. Once I’ve fully come down, I pull away. My oversensitive flesh can't take anymore. The lower part of his face is wet, his cheeks are red, and his lips are swollen.
He stands up from his kneeling position, licking the moisture off his swollen lips, and the muscles in my lower belly contract once again. His eyes are feverish. A huge bulge tents his jeans. He’s trying to adjust himself but winces as if in pain. His breathing is labored.
“I... hmm… Do you need help with that?” I point at thebigsituation below his belt.
“I’d love the help, baby. But not now.” He puts his hand inside his jeans and puts his dick into the right position, which is apparently straight up. I know because I'm watching like a hawk, and I swear I can almost smell his musk. Watching somebody moving their cock and catching a whiff of his scent would typically send me to the toilet to throw up. But not now, no. The opposite. My pussy clenches again, and I swallow a dry lump in my throat. A loud groan draws my attention. "Don't do that anymore, or you'll end up with your feet on my shoulders and my dick deep inside you."
My mouth hangs open; he steps closer and gives me a quick lick on my lips. My tongue darts out, tasting myself. It’s not gross as I thought. It’s arousing.
I touch my lips with my fingers, still not believing what just happened. Justin Attleborough went down on me in the kitchen of the diner. While he was on his knees with his face buried between my legs. What in the ever-loving hell is happening?
While I doubt my sanity, he bends down, picks up my discarded soaked panties from the floor, and shoves them into the front pocket of his jeans.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Taking a souvenir.” He answers with a wide smile. “For future use.”
“That’s gross!” I scrunch my nose.
“It’s so not." He adjusts himself again and shoves his hands into his back pockets. "I meant what I said, Kayla."
“What exactly? You spurted a lot of nonsense. What exactly did you mean?” I jump down from the table and fix my skirt.
“That I still hate you, and that doesn’t change anything.” His words and actions are two completely different stories. This guy can write a handbook on how to be hot and cold.
My back snaps straight. “What?”
