Page 10 of The Perfect Ingredient
“Your mouth feels evenbetter—”
His hips twitch. His hand presses down in my hair while I drool around him, swallowing every twitch, every throb, every ounce of his heat.
I suck him faster, messier, letting lewd sounds echo in the room—slck, slck, slck—each pull of my lips dragging more of him into me. I want it all. I want the taste, the stretch, the sounds he makes, the twitch of his thighs when I take him all the way down. I want his cum on my tongue again, thick, perfumed, and obscene.
My whole body pulses, mouth wrapped wet and tight around him, cock aching, heart pounding as if I’m beingfedsomething my body recognizes as holy. I suck harder, losing rhythm, drowning in spit and the obscene joy of beingfull. I want him to come. Ineedto drink from him.
But Hessou pulls me off.
“No.” With his fingers in my hair, he drags me up with a breathless grunt. “It’s beenyears.You think I’ll just come down your throat and be done?”
I pant, dazed, spit-slicked and red-faced.
“It wouldn’t be the worst ending.”
He kisses me before I can smirk, hard, open-mouthed and desperate. Our mouths crash, teeth knocking, and I moan intoit, grinding my hips against him, desperate for pressure, friction,anything.
He grabs my waist.
“Get on your stomach.”
I turn to sheets that are already a mess. My thighs slide across them as I settle down, face turned to the side, breathing fast. My cock presses into the bed, and my body twitches when I feel his weight shift behind me.
Then his hands.
One spreads over the back of my neck, holding me in place while the other runs down my spine.
He leans in andbreathes.
His nose presses to the curve where my neck meets my shoulder, and he inhales like he needs it to live.
“I wish I could bottle you,” he whispers. “Itried.”
He kisses the back of my neck. Then again. Then lower. His mouth drags down my spine, his tongue flicking between my shoulder blades, his lips sucking bruises into the small of my back. I shiver.
“You smell like midday rain,” he mutters into my skin. “And wildflowers. And forbidden orgasms. Warm, sweet, and utterly filthy.”
“Hessou—” My voice breaks, cracked with wanting. I grip the sheets; push my ass back into him.
He bites, and then soothes it with his tongue. His hands spread me, holding me open, exposing every part of me. I gasp, body jerking.
Then he breathes in again.
A long, obscene inhale right against my hole, lips brushing over sensitive skin, his breath hot and shaky.
“You’re perfect,” he says. “I’m going to ruin you.”
“You already did,” I whisper back, trembling beneath him.
His grip on my hips tightens, fingers bruising into my skin. Then his mouth is back on me, lower this time, hungrier. His tongue drags over me—slow, then faster, wetter—circling, pushing. I jerk forward, fists clenching in the sheets, moaning open-mouthed into the mattress.
“Ah—fuck—”
He licks me open without patience, like he’s starving, devouring me as if I’m his first and last meal. His tongue pushes in, and Iarch, crying out, because it’s sowet, sodeep, and his grip on me is unrelenting. I can feel the way his nose presses against me, how he keeps me spread, his tongue moving in filthy circles until I’m shaking, leaking, and muttering nonsense into the mattress.
He pulls back with a final kiss, and I hear him open a drawer. Something glass clinks, and I barely have time to register it before he’s back between my thighs, slick fingers pressing against me.
But thesmell.
