Misadventures of a Curvy Girl (Misadventures #18)(21)

I tongue and lick at her, like a boy with a county fair ice cream cone, trying to lick it fast before it melts in the sun. And Ireland is indeed melting, all of her shyness from earlier completely vanishing as her hands wind through my hair. Her thighs are warm and restless, pressing against me when she rubs my back with her feet, splaying open when she braces against the bed and tries to push her pussy against my face.

“He’s good at that, isn’t he?” comes Ben’s voice. It’s low and coaxing and just the tiniest bit cruel—it’s sin incarnate. I grind my cock into the bed at the sound of it.

Ben’s always been able to do that to me. Stir me up more, make me crazy, just with his words. And knowing that soon he’ll be talking like this while I’m pumping away between Ireland’s legs, well…it makes it hard for a man to be patient. I roll my hips against the quilt as Ben keeps talking over Ireland’s whimpers.

“He likes that cunt of yours, I can tell,” Ben remarks. “I can see the muscles in his ass flexing, and you know why? Because he’s fucking the bed, he’s that turned on. That turned on just from tasting you.”

“Oh,” Ireland breathes out. Her thighs are tensing and her belly too, and she’s getting close. So close.

Ben notices, of course. “You’re going to come, aren’t you? Because it’s just so good to have his mouth there making you feel good? Can you feel his beard when he kisses you? You’ll be feeling it tomorrow too, you know. You’ll be Caleb’s beard-burned little slut. Walking around in your pretty skirts with your pussy still swollen and marked up by him.”

“Oh God,” Ireland chokes out, falling total prey to Ben’s words and writhing against my busy mouth. “Oh my God.”

“You like that?” Ben probes, leaning down to run his nose along her pert chin and the apple of her cheek. “You want to be Caleb’s little slut?”

“I—both of yours,” she gasps.

“My slut too?”

“Yes,” she moans.

“Then be a good slut and come for Caleb. His cock is full of come to give you, but it needs you wet and tight, doesn’t it?”

Aw, shit. I’m practically boring a hole into this mattress I’m so fucking worked up now, and between Ben’s words and Ireland’s sweet pussy trembling against the flat of my tongue, I’m not sure if I’ll even make it to fucking her.

“Answer me, Ireland,” Ben says sternly.

I look up over the rise of Ireland’s curls to see that she’s cresting now, her entire body a tensed stretch of quivering curves.

“Doesn’t it?” Ben demands again, reaching out and collaring her throat with a hand to turn her face to his. And that’s all it takes—the combination of his filthy words and his hand at her throat and my devouring her pussy like I’ll never get to taste a woman ever again—and she’s right there, tipping over the edge.

“Yes,” she says in a cry, and then she releases against my lips, coming with a final small slick of sweetness and a helpless arch of her back. I’m too far gone to stop eating her, though, lost to the taste of her and the feel of her on my lips, and it’s Ben who pulls me away from her pussy by the nape of my neck.

“Look at what you’ve done,” Ben says to our girl as I reluctantly rise to my knees. He runs a hand along Ireland’s thigh, and she shudders under his touch, her body still visibly trembling with the aftershocks. “Look at poor Caleb. Look at how much he needs you.”

The three of us look down at my cock, which is enormous right now, standing out from my hips in a hard, angry jut. I feel an uncommon surge of pride about how big I am, and it only surges more when Ireland’s eyes widen ever so slightly as she takes in my size.

“Big,” she gets out in a throaty voice. “So big.”

“It’s for you, baby,” I say, giving myself a rough, helpless stroke from root to tip. “All for you.”

Ben presses a condom in my hand, and I find my hands are shaking as I tear it open. Maybe I came earlier in the barn, but that feels like another life, another world. The tough, familiar fuck of my fist can’t compare to even the promise of Ireland’s body, so slick and soft and tight. It’s like I’ve never come before, never in my whole life, that’s how fucking keyed up I am as I finally get the condom pinched and rolling over my engorged shaft. That’s how full my sack feels as I finally move between Ireland’s legs, like I’ve got a lifetime of semen saved up just for her.

Even in the dark, I see that smile of hers that hurts my heart—the rueful one that means she’s holding something back. That she’s telling herself not to do or say something, and it makes me urgent to help her let go. To turn that troubled smile into a real one, into a smile that only knows pleasure and happiness.

Ben catches it too and slants me a look. He doesn’t have to say anything, but we both know I’m better at this than he is. I’ve been practicing with him for years, after all.

“Tell us, peach,” I say. I sit back on my heels between her legs, and Ben does the same at her side, the head of his cock still wedged out from his jeans but his body completely still.

She blinks in bemusement, her eyes still glazed with lust and post-climax bliss. “Tell you what?”

“You wanted to say or do something, but then you stopped. What was it?” I keep my voice warm, keep my hands to myself, even though in this position I can see the opened petals of her pussy waiting for me and my fingers are flexing with the urge to trace her secrets.