She moans as a shiver runs through her body. But then she reaches down and does as I say. I watch in silent awe as she cups her breasts again, then trails one hand down her body, down her stomach, until her fingers reach their destination. She circles her clit a few times before moving further. In an instant, she's slid two fingers inside her pussy.
I grab her wrist and bring those fingers to my mouth. I suck the taste of her from her skin, just as she's sucking me now. She must have the same thought because she once again urges me to pick up the pace of my hips.
"So fucking sweet," I murmur. I guide her hand back to her pussy. "Touch yourself again. I want to see you come."
When she whimpers, I finally get a sense of her desperation. The last time she sucked my dick she got so wet that she exploded almost immediately after I next touched her. She's probably aching to come right now.
Sure enough, there's nothing lazy or playful about the way she starts rubbing her clit. Her pace is hurried—frenzied. She starts to squirm as her orgasm builds.
I'm mesmerized by the sight below me and try not to increase my own pace as she nears her release. She's distracted enough now that she gives up trying to actually create suction around my dick, and instead just lets her mouth drop open as I continue to thrust in and out.
I can't stop myself from reaching down and sliding two fingers into her pussy, once again feeling my brain short-circuit when I realize she’s drenched from just my dick in her mouth. The moan that she lets out at the feeling of my fingers fucking her reverberates around my dick and I swear I only hold my orgasm back by sheer force of will. I continue to thrust my fingers into her as she frantically swirls her wetness over her clit.
When I curl my fingers inside her, she drops me from her mouth and screams as her release tears through her. I groan and work my other hand over my shaft as I watch her explode beneath me.
That sight is what brings on my own release. I feel it barreling down my spine and I have just enough time to give her one more instruction.
"Open and stick your tongue out," I gasp.
Heavy-lidded and looking a little dick-drunk, she eagerly does as I say. Just as she opens her mouth, I explode, shooting my release all over her tongue. I watch as it drops to the back of her throat. I grunt through the overwhelming orgasm that Remy has once again brought on.
She swallows, her eyes sparkling up at me as she licks her lips.
I gape at her for another moment, then pull my sweatpants up and step around the couch to drop to my knees in front of her. I tug her to a sitting position before sliding my hand behind her head and gripping the nape of her neck. I press a heady kiss to her lips.
"You have the sweetest fucking mouth," I murmur against her skin. "You have no idea how pissed I am that we waited so long to start doing this." I sigh dramatically.
She laughs—a real, tinkling laugh—and pushes me away. I drop heavily to my spot next to her on the couch.
I take a deep breath to calm my still-racing heart. I watch as she straightens her clothes, then I hand her the beer that she had been drinking. I raise my eyebrows when she chugs half the can.
Seeing my surprise, she shrugs her shoulders and answers simply, "As good as you taste, I still prefer a good IPA as an aftertaste."
I bark a startled laugh. Shaking my head, I reach for my own beer. "Okay, now back to your question game." I settle back against the cushions and flash her an impish grin. "I actually did you a favor with that blowjob. If we hadn't started with that, I would've been distracted the whole game and every question would've been about sex. AndthenI would've fucked your mouth. So, this way, you actually get good questions and good answers. You're welcome."
She rolls her eyes as she tries to tamp down on the smile that's threatening to curl the edges of her lips. "Yes, thank youso muchfor fucking my face and coming in my mouth. How verythoughtfulof you."
I chuckle and take a few gulps of my beer. I turn my full attention to Remy and study her thoughtfully. I'm trying to remember the last time I wanted to talk to a girl after an orgasm.
I'm coming up empty.
"Well, go on then. Ask away."
She tilts her head thoughtfully as she taps a finger to her lips, no doubt trying to make her first question a good one. Unfortunately, all I can think about is how swollen her lips look from my rough treatment of her—and how much I'd like to bite that plump bottom lip.
I swallow roughly and shift my hips, subtly trying to ease the ache of my hardening cock.
Unbelievable. I just came two minutes ago and she's already making me want to go again.
How am I so affected by this girl?
"OK, I'll start easy," she says, oblivious to my internal struggle. "What's the hardest part of fighting?"
I wince when the answer immediately comes to mind. “The day of the fight,” I answer as I turn back to the TV. Incidentally, they’re showing the fighters as they’re warming up in the locker rooms. The scene on the screen is exactly the worst part about fighting. “The nerves are the worst. The week of the fight isn’t bad because you’re distracted by the weight cut, but the day of the fight—after you’ve weighed in—the only thing you can think about is how you’re about to be locked inside a cage with a very large man that wants nothing more than to hurt you. It’s a surreal feeling. And I don’t care who you ask, every fighter will tell you that they question their decision to sign the contract during the hours before the fight.”
Remy giggles even as she stares at me with wide eyes. “Seriously? All of you are scared of fighting? I didn’t think you guys were scared of anything.”
My brow furrows. “It’s not scared, necessarily. It’s more like we’re in disbelief and questioning our own sanity. It’s why I never judge people when they say our sport is crazy—it is. They’re absolutely right about that.” I turn back to Remy with a feral grin. “But all those feelings go away as soon as the bell starts. And then the real fun—and my favorite part of fighting—begins.”