Page 123 of Easy
‘It went down really well.’ Innuendo I haven’t the bandwidth for makes him smile anyway.
‘You’re fucking perfect.’ The corner of his mouth hitches in a secretive smile. I startle as he pushes two fingers deep inside my body, his mouth latching onto my clit. ‘And you taste like cream.’ His words are whispered between flicks and sucks.
‘Oh, God. I need... ’ All of it. I need all of him.
‘You’re so warm and so fucking wet,’ he finishes... dousing me in wine from the forgotten bottle between his legs.
My body bows in shock, but he holds me in place as the wine flows. The coolness is startling, and I cry aloud, my cries drawing out as his hot tongue returns to my flesh. He licks the spilled wine with murmurs of appreciation. Words of encouragement as he licks my pussy and thighs.Tart on his tongue. Slippery. Cool. Warm. Fucking irresistible.
Wetness sits under my thighs as he pulls back, raising the bottle again. For a brief second, I think he’s returning to the table. But then, I read his intent. The cool neck touches my heated centre as he drags the glass the length of my core.
‘How does it feel?’ he demands, his gaze bright and avid as he watches the progression of the bottle until the opening is balanced at mine.
‘Hard.’ My word is pure encouragement, my teeth gripping my bottom lip against the urge to tell him I want it.Do it. I want you to. Fuck me with it.
‘What else?’ His gaze is hungry, desire shining there as he teases me with the very tip. In and out, he drags it, my desire to be filled absolute.
‘It’s cold.’ My word comes out more groan as he slides it in a little deeper, my insides clenching around the neck.
‘Not for very much longer,’ he replies, dragging the bottle out. Bringing it to his lips, he drains it of the remaining liquid, his eyes intent on mine. ‘I know which taste I prefer’. He pulls the bottle away, his tongue licking a drop of something from his top lip. My breath hitches as he returns the bottle between my legs.
‘And now?’ he asks, teasing me with a slide and retreat.
‘Not fair,’ I rasp in return, dropping my head back as my insides scream for more.
Dan pushes the bottle a little deeper, and I’m wanton in my acceptance, spreading my legs and moaning. I welcome the invasion—crave more—as his lips return, sucking my clit into his mouth. It’s almost too much, too much visually, at least, as my eyes fall between my legs and the dark thatch of hair. As though sensing this, his eyes track up my body, the midnight blue darker with the weight of his intent.
He pushes it farther still, where my body has warmed the glass. The pressure is sublime, the feeling intense as he fucks me with it slowly, my nerve endings firing white hot at the sensation of the smooth glass and his hot tongue. Licking, tasting, his mouth—his actions—push me to the brink of climax, my gasps all vowels and no sound. I want to push my hands in his dark, silky hair. I want to gather him to me so he finishes the job.
‘Do you want to come?’ he asks, his smile leaking between my legs.
‘What kind of question is that?’ I groan then squeak as his teeth find my clit.A warning. ‘Yes—yes, I do,’ I pant, my words much more contrite.
‘Not badly enough, perhaps.’
‘No, I do. Please, I do want to come!’ My arms will no longer hold me, my head banging against the wood.
‘Ask again,’ he taunts, giving my clit a sharp suck.
‘Please, Dan. Make me come.’
‘I thought you’d never ask.’
The world closes at the touch of him. There’s no Dan or Louise. There is only my pussy, this table, this bottle, and his lips, pulling my orgasm from me.
Chapter Five
DAN
Silence stretches out between us, much like my ex’s adored cat. I have other secrets. But how to begin? Naked and in bed, warm, and sated, there’s something about the moment. Something more than the glow of great sex. Is it comfort? Happiness? Whatever it was, I’d happily drown in it.
‘So ex-wife, huh?’ Folding her arms across my chest, Louise rests her head just below my chin. I find myself smiling. Though I can’t see her expression, I don’t need to, to hear her curiosity.
I make a vague, noncommittal sort of noise in answer, wondering how long it would be before she presses again. Divorce is never a pleasant topic of conversation. Problem was, this is just the tip of the iceberg. My personal life, my businesses; she has no idea what a fucked-up state I’m in.
‘What’s this from?’ Her voice brings me back to the moment. I’m thankful she hadn’t pushed further, though I’m not entirely comfortable with her current train of thought.
‘Ah.’ She no doubt heard my consternation as I look down at the faint scar running across my ribs. ‘Thatis the result of being on the wrong side of edge play.’ I tuck my chin to my chest in order to see from the odd angle. So much for modifying the conversation.
