“Yes, sir,” she says, laughing again as I bite my lip and moan low in my throat. “You like being called sir, sir?”
“Yes, I do,” I admit, reaching up to frame her sex with my hands. “Especially while I’m eating pussy, so please, feel free to say that as many times as you want while I’m proving my devotion.” I press a kiss to her thigh as I rub my thumb over her clit, summoning another turned-on sigh from her lips. “You can also call my name or refer to me as The Lord of your Loins or the Genie of your Genitals.”
“Oh my God,” she says with a laugh. “Stop, you’re ruining the—” Her words break off with a gasp as I replace my thumb with my tongue, swirling it in one swift, firm circle around the top of her sex. “Oh God. Oh, wow.”
I hum my appreciation for her tart, salty, fresh-apples-soaked-in-seawater flavor, a taste I already know I’m going to crave for the rest of my life. “I’m ruining what?” I murmur, before swirling my tongue again and again.
“Nothing,” she pants, her thighs spreading wider in a silent invitation to get closer, kiss deeper. “You’re ruining nothing. I’m pretty sure this is the best meeting of my entire life. Ten out of ten, would meet with Mr. Tongue-ington again. Any time.”
“Don’t rate me yet, sweetheart. I’m just getting started,” I promise and get back to work, determined to ruin her for every other mouth but mine.
Chapter Nineteen
Harlow
I thought I knew a thing or two about pleasure.
My college boyfriend may have been inept, but he did eventually get the train to leave the station—though it often took a little help from my vibrator, slipped down the front of my jeans, to get me there.
Speaking of my vibrator, I’m a fucking master with that thing. Literally.
I can do things to myself in thirty seconds that would astound the vibrator-using community at large, should I ever choose to share my techniques publicly.
But this?
What Derrick’s doing to me down there with his mouth and his tongue and his fingers. Oh God, his tongue. That fucking tongue… “I’m in love with that tongue. I want to marry it and have its tongue babies.”
He laughs against my clit, making me squirm to get even closer to the delicious vibration. “My tongue wants the same,” he says, humming against me again, sending me arching off the bed. “He’s ready to lock this pussy down. Fuck, Harlow, you taste so damned good. I feel like I’ve been craving this exact taste my entire fucking life.”
“God, Derrick,” I whimper, clinging to his shoulders, his hair, his ears, as I buck into his mouth, so close the entire universe is spinning in circles around me. “Oh, please, yes. There! Like that. Don’t stop, oh, please don’t stop.”
He groans, long and low, against my clit as his fingers pump deep inside me, just once, and that’s all it takes.
I explode. Or implode. Or sex-splode.
Yes, that’s what I do. I sex-splode, my pussy clenching tight around his fingers as I come and come and come, until my stomach hurts and my nipples ache and it’s almost too much.
Too good.
Too sparkly and bliss-filled and right.
But just as I’m about to beg for a break from the orgasming to recover, he flips me over onto my stomach with a swiftness that makes me gasp.
And then suddenly he’s on top of me, whispering roughly into my ear through my hair as he swats my bare ass. “Never again, baby,” he growls, making my pulse spike with adrenaline and a fresh wave of lust. “Do you hear me? You never call me Satan again.” He spanks me again, twice, summoning a hungry groan from deep in my chest. “That’s not who I am to you anymore, do you understand?”
He spanks me again, five or six times. I lose count of the exact number. I’m too lost in the wickedly delicious shocks of electricity rocketing through my nervous system in the wake of every swat of his hand against my ass and the way my recently exhausted pussy is rallying like a goddamned champion.
I arch my back, pressing against his cock through his jeans, breath rushing out as I feel how hot and hard he is, even through the thick fabric. “Now, Derrick. Please. Inside me. Now. I need you so much.”
“Need you like I need air,” he rumbles, his fingers digging tight into my waist as he kisses my cheek. “Two seconds. Condoms are in the bathroom.”
His heat vanishes from behind me, but I barely have time to flip over before he’s back at the side of the bed, condom packet clenched between his teeth as he pops the button on the top of his jeans.
“No, my turn.” I lunge for the edge of the bed, batting his hands away from his fly. “This is mine, Olsen. Don’t you dare deprive me of the pleasure of unwrapping my present.”