"C'mere, Rune." I started to sit up, but he shook his head. "No." He pushed at the inside of my knee. "Open for me."
I knew what he wanted, but I was embarrassed to do it. Embarrassed to offer myself to him, to display myself for him. I'm not ashamed of my sexuality—far from it, but Duncan just did something to me. Made me aware of myself. Made me aware of my need, made me aware of my nudity, of my arousal. How wet I was.
But the need to come was stronger.
I scooted to the edge of the bed, gnawing on my lower lip in arousal and embarrassment. Slowly, I drew my legs up, knees together, until my heels pressed into my ass. Duncan just knelt there, eyes on mine, patient, heated.
"Let me see that pretty little pussy, Rune," he whispered.
Breath caught in my lungs, I bit my lip until it hurt, hyperaware that no one I've ever dated or slept with has ever spoken to me this way, has ever looked at me the way he was, has ever demanded these things of me. No one has ever stared at me as if I was his last meal. No one has ever drawn out my pleasure like this—for his own enjoyment. No one has ever delayed his own gratification for mine.
It was the last one that convinced me to obey.
Panting in equal parts fear, arousal, and mortification, I eased my knees apart inch by inch. Duncan’s eyes were fixed on the apex of my thighs, a grin spreading across his face the more of me I exposed for him. When my legs were splayed all the way open, his grin was all teeth and arousal.
"Look at you," he breathed, awed. His finger trailed delicately down my seam. "Fucking perfect. Fucking gorgeous."
"Dunc," I pled. "Please. I…please."
He nipped a tender fold of skin on the inside of my left thigh, and then smirked up at me. "Please, what, Rune?"
I grasped his head, fingers tangled in his hair. "Put your mouth on me. Eat my pussy. Please. Make me come."
“Thought you'd never fucking ask." He open-mouth kissed my pussy, then, lips on my nether lips, tongue sliding up my seam and pressing in. A raw, rough, ragged groan escaped him. "You taste like honey."
I could only gasp.
Another slow lick. My hips bucked. A string of firecrackers detonated inside me at the swipe of his tongue as it ended at my clit, swirling in soft circles.
"Oh-oh-oh—fuck!" I hissed, my grip on his hair going brutally tight as I held him against me. "More. More. Fuck, please, don't stop."
"Stop?" he echoed, his tone belying disbelief. "Try and make me. I'm not stopping until you've come so hard you don't know your own goddamned name."
I cried out loud as he slid a finger inside me, and then a second one, curling them against that spot high inside me, and his lips suctioned around my clit and his tongue drilled against me. I arched off the bed, thrusting against his mouth and finger as the first wave of climax cracked open inside me.
He tongued me through it, two fingers massaging my inner walls as they clenched around his digits, and then I collapsed to the bed, panting and whimpering. Now his tongue fluttered and slithered against my clit in soft, slow, delicate licks, barely touching, teasing. His fingers, though—they fucked me. Plunging in and out hard and fast, he fucked me with his fingers while teasing my clit, and now that wave of climax morphed into a surging wall of ecstasy battering me into wailing, hip-thrusting abandon, my hands clutching his head, heels pressed into the bed.
The orgasm shattered, the wall and the wave dissolving and becoming a hurricane, a mad swirl of arousal and ecstasy. He fondled my tits with his other hand, cupping a breast, pinching a nipple, twisting and flicking, caressing and holding, and all the while his fingers plundered my pussy, squelching in and out hard and fast.
I thought I knew what an orgasm felt like. I thought I'd had generous, skilled lovers before.
I hadn't.
Duncan seemed to know my body as if he had some kind of user’s manual. Every time I thought I reached the peak of climax, he did something else that made me come even harder. And then, just when I thought I couldn't come any harder, when I thought for sure I'd come as hard as I possibly could, he backed away and let my body settle, and then…
He did something new.
A change in pace, slowing his fingers as they slid in and out of me, speeding the swirling of his tongue.
Or he'd marry the pace of both, slowly licking my clit while plunging his fingers in and out of me just as slowly.
And then, without warning, he'd change it up again.
And I'd come even harder.
Or come again.
I’d lost track—there was no time, anymore. There was no me, no here, no now. There was only Duncan; there's only ever been Duncan.
