“Don’t stop,” she begs. “Don’t ever stop doing that.”
I stop for just a moment and lift my head to meet her cloudy gaze. I can feel her juices all over my mouth and chin, just like any competitor in a pie eating contest.
“Oh, we’re just getting started,” I say as I bury myself once again into the sweetest pie I’ve ever tasted.
Chapter 18
Mira
No one ever told me that it would feel like this. I mean, I know how to please myself, but having someone eat you out is kind of like fixing a car—you need someone else to do it for you.
Owen has already inspected me from head to toe, and a few strategically placed kisses are all I need to know that I’m ready to let him under my hood and get the job done.
“You taste so fucking good,” he says, coming up for air.
When he puts it that way, how do I deny him? If he’s willing to do the service, I’ll supply the parts.
In one sweep, I clear the rest of the papers and pens off my desk, sending them crashing to the floor.
“We’re not sitting in a church pew. Open up, sweetheart.”
I look down at myself and laugh. Without even realizing it, I’ve been slowly closing my legs, trapping Owen in a headlock. It’s just so hard to let myself go, to let my inhibitions run free.
But Owen is impossible to resist, and I’ve been imagining this moment over and over in my head since I last saw him. It’s about damn time I get the real thing.
I gasp when Owen grabs my knees and spreads my legs apart. I kick off my shoes and rest my bare feet on the top of the desk. Like the Grand Canyon, I am deep and wide and open for visitors. My head falls back, hanging off the side of the desk and I let the waves of pleasure cascade through me.
God, this feels fucking amazing.
Owen’s tongue leaves my cunt and glides along my sensitive skin, and it’s so...
“Oh my god,” I moan. After teasing and licking my lips, and tracing along my inner thighs, he lands right on my clit and my hips buck against him. I grab onto his head, pushing him deeper into me, desperate for more.
“Someone’s getting greedy.” He stops to look up at me and winks. “Want more?”
“Yes. Right there. More, more, more!”
He flicks my clit with the tip of his tongue. “What,” he licks it, “do,” and licks it again, “you say?” Holy hell. My body is on fire and the build of my orgasm becomes excruciating.
“Please, Owen. Please,” I say, not giving a damn how much I beg him. He’s torturing me now.
I’ve completely lost control, but I don’t even care. He falls forward and works me over with his tongue. I let go—feeling every new sensation in my body crash through and overwhelm me.
I can’t believe I’ve never let someone do this to me before. Or, I guess I should say, for me.
Why did I have to wait so long to try it? I think of all the time I wasted sitting in meetings when I could have been sitting on someone’s face. This is going to be way better for my bottom line.
Like a little toy soldier, Owen beats my drum with his tongue, and I move my hips in rhythm with his beat. My nerve endings are standing at attention, tingling in anticipation of the climax.
But just when my muscles start to tense and quiver—he stops. “Do you like that?” he asks, looking up at me, his eyes wild with desire.
“You’re not stopping, are you?” I’m crossing my fingers that he’s not too tired to continue, because I’m about ready to burst.
Owen licks his fingers and taps my clit so gently that I have to bite my lip to contain myself. If I didn’t have my eyes on the prize, I’d be melting at the sight of him kneeling before me, teasing me with those piercing grey eyes.
“I think I’ve polished you up pretty nicely,” he says casually, fingering the hem of my skirt like he’s ready to cover me up and call it a day. “What do you think?”
The bastard. He’s taunting me now. It’s like he enjoys watching me suffer. If he thinks I’m going to beg for it, he’s…totally right. He has me right where he wants me, and if I want my happy ending, I have no choice but to play along with his little game.