“Fuck your mouth?” He presses a soft kiss to my lips. “Or fuck your pussy?”
I nod, pulling a deep chuckle from him.
“Both?”
“Yes,” I pant. “I want both.”
He drops his head, his mouth once again making contact with my nipple as his fingers tease the other one.
My eyes flutter closed as I understand that he may be taking requests, but he’s driving the train tonight. Suddenly his mouth is gone, and I blink my eyes open.
“One or the other tonight, Faith.”
“Not both?” I tease with a roll of my hips that makes him groan.
“If I fuck your mouth, I’ll come down your throat. There won’t be a chance to fuck that greedy pussy of yours.”
The lower half of me clenches with his words. This kind of foreplay is better than any of the physical sex I’ve had.
“My pussy,” I choose.
“Your greedy pussy,” he clarifies. “Are you sure?”
I nod.
Satisfied with the direction we’re heading, Ethan pulls back, fingers moving from my breasts to the waistband of my sleep shorts. He doesn’t spend a second worrying about teasing himself when he pulls those and my panties down in one go.
“Jesus, baby. Do you see how swollen your clit is?”
I don’t have to look because the damn thing is throbbing, but I angle my head up anyway. Pink and ready, just like I suspected.
He shifts to the side so he can fully remove the clothes from my lower half, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by me that I’m completely naked while he’s wearing every stitch of clothing he arrived in.
“So pretty,” he praises, his finger running over the top of my clit.
I jolt, not in surprise because I knew it was coming, but because the sensation is out of this world.
“Ethan,” I groan, half loving and half hating the teasing.
He chuckles. “Don’t rush me, baby. I’m building memories right now.”
“Wouldn’t you like to have a memory of what I taste like?” I ask. All the embarrassment I felt earlier flew out the window the second he made me ask for his cock.
His eyes skate up my body, landing on mine.
“I think that’s a great idea.”
He shifts again, turning me on the sofa so I’m now facing the coffee table. After he moves the piece of furniture out of the way, he bends forward and wraps his lips around my pussy. He gives no warning. There’s no teasing with this part, no nasty words about how much he’s going to enjoy pleasing me. But God, is he enjoying it. The man devours me, his tongue slipping past the suction, occasionally to sweep a little lower, and I know he’s rewarding himself with the wetness he’s creating.
“Damn it.” I hiss, my hands tangling in his hair.
The sensations are so damn strong I don’t know whether to give in to them or to pull him off. His arms circle under my legs, effectively welding his mouth to my body.
I get barely any warning. That slow build tingle I’m accustomed to when I get myself off arrives ten times stronger and mere seconds before I detonate.
I don’t know if I scream or remain silent. I don’t know if I pull a patch of his hair out.
All I know is that one minute, I’m on my couch enjoying the best oral I’ve ever been blessed with and then the next, I’m floating on clouds. When I eventually crash back down to earth, tiny jolts of pleasure are still rippling through me, causing my legs to shake.
His eyes are on me, despite his mouth still locked on my core. Closing my eyes would be what I normally do. Looking directly at a partner while doing something like this is a level of intimacy I’ve never experienced. It’s something I never wanted. Every other time I found myself making eye contact during sex, I’d look away. I’m powerless to do that with this man. Hell, I don’t even want to.
He smiles up at me, his tongue flicking lightly over my clit. The sensations become too much, and I shake my head. He reads the cues like an expert and pulls his mouth away.
“You come like a goddess,” he says, pressing his lips to my trembling inner thigh.
With that praise, I have to look away. It’s just too much right now. For some reason, I want to cry. It was amazing, but at the same time, it’s left me feeling vulnerable and drained.
He leans back on his knees, fingers working open the buckle of his belt, and I’m right back in the game. His cock is hard and straining against the denim of his jeans, a testament to his own enjoyment of what he just did. It wasn’t a means to an end for this man, an obligation to get to the part that feels good for him.
“Sure you don’t want a blowjob?”