out a tiny scream of pleasure. She lapped at the wetness that
pooled on her tongue, on her lips, on Dallas’ thighs. Dallas
couldn’t keep still. She thrashed wildly against the stool and
against Quinn. When she reached down, Quinn snatched her
hand away.
“This is mine,” she said thickly. “For right now, this is
all mine. If you touch yourself, you’re going to spoil the fun.”
“I know,” Dallas cried. “But I’m so close. God,
Quinn… I need you to…”
Quinn knew exactly what Dallas needed. The
frustration was evident in her voice. She wasn’t going to give
it to her. Not yet. She wanted to keep tasting her, draw out the
pleasure and the ache until Dallas couldn’t take it anymore.
She wanted Dallas to come while riding her face so hard they
freaking broke the barstool. Although, the chances of that
happening were pretty slim. It was quite sturdy, but it was
exciting enough to fantasize about it.
Quinn lapped at Dallas, torturing her with her tongue
until Dallas was vibrating so hard above her that the barstool
felt like it was connected to something mechanical. When
Dallas was panting and begging, chanting Quinn’s name,
Quinn finally gave her release. She swirled her tongue over
Dallas’ clit, sucking at the same time with her lips, until Dallas
cried out and shattered against her. Even though she was still
on the bar stool, she did ride Quinn’s face, just like she’d
imagined. It was, hands down, the most incredible thing that
had happened to her in the last decade.
Quinn straightened after Dallas stopped panting and
moving her hips. She stood up and kissed Dallas full on the
mouth, letting her taste herself. Dallas moaned. She cupped