Player(52)

20





Cunninglinguist





Sam

Her mouth, deceivingly small, unexpectedly skilled. Absolutely perfect.

The tang of my body on her tongue drew a moan from deep in my throat. The taste mingled with the slickness of our mouths until there was no distinguishable difference—it was her and me and sex, all joined together to make something solely ours.

Val needed no instruction. She needed no one to tell her what to do.

She’d blown my mind on her own.

The echo of my orgasm pulsed through me. I’d had blowjobs, sure. But Val…she was like nothing I’d ever seen before or would ever see again.

After a moment, she ended the kiss. Her lips smiled, but her dark eyes betrayed her uncertainty.

“So…did I pass?”

I chuckled, tucking her curly hair behind her ear. “A-plus. You wrecked the bell curve.”

The tightness around her eyes melted away. “Oh, thank God. I mean, I figured it couldn’t have been the worst since you…you know.”

I slipped my thigh between her legs, shifted my hips to align them with hers. “Since you made me come?” I asked, my voice low.

Her cheeks flushed, so pretty, so sweet. “Yes, since you came.”

“How did it feel?”

Her brows came together in thought. “I get it now, what you said about pleasure. Making you feel good made me feel good. Thinking about what I wanted to do to you felt good. Touching you felt good. Lesson learned.”

My hand skated down her back, over her hip. I chuckled softly as she continued.

“Every time I’ve ever done it, it felt like a chore. I mean, I wanted to do it, but I wasn’t into it. I…I don’t know why exactly it was different with you. Honestly, I think you just turn me on,” she said on a laugh.

“That makes all the difference. No one wants to get head—girl or guy—from someone who isn’t enjoying themselves. And no one wants to give it to someone who demands it or seems bored. Sex is more than two bodies. It’s two minds. Sex is giving pleasure because it’s pleasurable, when it’s done right. Any man who isn’t just as concerned with your pleasure as he is his own isn’t the man for you.”

“Should I get my notepad? I feel like I should be taking notes.”

I pulled her a little closer, kissed her lips gently. “You’re not leaving my bed. Not yet.”

Her gaze dropped to her fingers where they lay on my chest. “Sam,” she said softly, “really, you don’t have to—”

“Oh, that’s not how this works.” I shifted my thigh, pressing it against her sex. The wet heat of her settled against my skin through the thin barrier of her panties. “After watching you suck my cock, after watching your ass sway out of my reach? After the feeling of you pressed against my thighs?” I cupped her breast, the curve too big for my hand, the weight heavy and soft and warm. “I know I don’t have to. I want to.”

I kissed her, shifted, rolled her underneath me. Pressed her into the bed with my body, tasted her skin with my fingertips. Waited for the tension to dissolve from her limbs, waited until her lips were pliant and open. Waited until her doubt was gone.

I was a patient man. Especially when it came to Val.

My thigh was still between hers, her body soft beneath mine. My hands full of her and hers all over me.

I broke the kiss to leave her panting up at the ceiling, my lips on a trail down her body. Her jaw and neck. The soft hollow of her clavicle. The valley of her breastbone. And for a moment, that was where I stayed, listening to her sigh with her breast in my palm, riding the rise and fall of her chest, languidly licking her skin. Thumbing her tawny nipple, teasing it to a peak.

Her fingers dug ruts in my hair, curled against my scalp, tightened the closer my tongue came to her nipple. A flick of the tip, and her thighs squeezed mine. A hot breath, and her back arched, bringing her nipple to my lips. I parted them, brought the flat of my tongue to her breast, closed my mouth, drew her in. Relished in the mewl she rewarded me with.

I didn’t move on until the mewling graduated to impatient moans. Her hands sought traction, moving from my hair to my neck to my shoulders, her hips rolling impatiently, grinding against my thigh, searching for pressure.

Down I kissed, one hand unwilling to relinquish its claim on her breast. I pinned her legs together with my thighs, holding them still. Her hips shifted, her body squirming, her thighs clenching and releasing, trying to open. But I wouldn’t let them. Not as I kissed down her stomach or the outside of her hip, dragging her panties down her legs. Not as I clamped her restless thighs with my forearms and trailed my nose up the seam of her thighs. Not when my nose grazed the tip of her sex and I could smell her sweet heat. My mouth watered. I parted my lips. Brought the flat of my tongue to meet her. Closed my lips as she gasped. Sucked as she sighed.

Her thighs trembled in my arms, and all I wanted to do was spread them wide and bury my face in her. But like I’d said, I was a patient man. I took my time navigating her body, my tongue seeking the slick creases of her flesh, teasing the bundle of nerves, tasting her. Around her hood my mouth roamed, sucking, shifting side to side, drawing out her desire with every flick of my tongue, every flex of my lips.

She whimpered, and I looked up her body, over the sensual curves of her stomach, her breasts, round and heaving, her nipples reaching, tight and strained. Her face was there between them, her brows drawn and cheeks flushed so hard, they splotched at the edges, down her neck and shoulders. Her lips parted, gasping.