Good Time(27)

“I might grow on you though.”

I’m almost positive I can feel his lips smiling against my neck before he releases my hair and pushes me down until my elbows are on the bed once again. He slides his hands up and down my spine, pausing at the small of my back to massage his thumbs across my skin in a soothing firm circular motion. Then he continues over my hips, hands gliding down my thighs before he uses them to spread my bent knees farther apart.

Then he… holy shit, he licks me. From behind. Top to bottom before covering me with his mouth. Oh. My. God. I think my new husband might be the head of the oral Olympic committee. I’ve always considered myself pretty outgoing sexually, but honestly this never even occurred to me as an option. Thank fuck I’m facing the mattress because I know my mouth is hanging open like a gaping goldfish and I might possibly be cross-eyed.

Holy. Hell.

I drop my chest to the bed because I can’t possibly hold myself up. He laughs and oh, sweet Jesus, his scruff-covered chin is rubbing directly against my clit and I might die. He’s fucking me with his tongue while his chin bangs my clit and that’s it, I’m dead. I’m nothing but heat and pressure and pulsations and it’s all in one spot. Every nerve ending in my body right now has relocated between my thighs, I’m certain of it. I could slam my hand in a door and feel nothing except the pleasure between my legs because there’s no room to feel anything else.

I should be thinking things right now, like how his nose is literally pressed against my asshole in this position, but fuck, he’s so into it I don’t care. Or about how I’m so wet his face must be covered with me, but again, I don’t care. The sum total of things I care about is the orgasm building inside of me. The feel of his lips when he sucks on my clit. The rimming of his tongue around my entrance. The brush of his scratchy jaw in my most delicate of places. The swipe of his tongue between my pussy and asshole. The nip of his teeth on my—oh, my God. That’s it, right there. Right there. I’m shaking and making weird noises and I think there might be tears coming out of my eyes. I’m glad I’m face down on the bed because I’m so light-headed I think I might black out. That felt like pleasure detonating inside of me. Like an orgasm bomb.

He pinches my ass as he stands and just like that I’m ignited and needy all over again. Sated, yet horny. Hmm, that would be such a good name for a band. Or a sex toy shop. Then he tells me to move to the center of the bed so I do, crawling forward a few lengths before turning onto my back to watch him.

He’s sliding his underwear past his knees, and when he stands his cock stands with him. Erect and bobbing for attention. Penises are sorta ridiculous in general, but I find his magnificent. I saw it last night in the shower—hell, I had my hands wrapped around it in the shower—but seeing it again makes me clench in need. Did I mention it’s big? It is. Big. I thought maybe I’d enlarged the memory of it through my tequila tinted glasses but no, it’s impressive.

“I like your penis,” I mention in case that scores me a point on the good side of the crazy ledger he might be keeping. One point in the fun crazy column for liking his penis. Ten points in the bad crazy column for this marriage débacle. Shit. That math is not adding up in my favor. I wonder how many points anal would be worth?

“I know.”

Fuck my life, if I sang a penis song last night he is never going to take me seriously.

“Specifically how do you know?” I turn on my side and trace my fingertip over the bedspread.

“You’ve mentioned it a few times.” He drops a hand to his length as he speaks, stroking himself with his fist. I freaking love it when men do that, as if they give no fucks that they’re pumping themselves right in front of you. He twists his wrist at the tip before sliding back to the base and he’s not gentle with his motions. “‘I like your penis,’” he begins to sing in that voice he uses that’s supposed to sound like me. My eyes widen in alarm and fly to his but he’s already laughing and shaking his head. “Just kidding.”

This guy.

He’s smiling and stroking his monster cock and giving me that look he gives me like he finds me interesting and he’s doing it all at the same time. Not for nothing, but I might have a special gift for picking near strangers to marry. Like a sixth sense. Except that I think the sixth sense is an extrasensory perception so I’m not sure I’m using that idea correctly. Or maybe I am? Whatever, you get the gist.

Vince snags the condom off the bed and rips it open with his teeth before rolling it over the length of him. My heart is pounding when he crawls over me, resting between my spread legs as he kisses me, his cock heavy against my stomach. I ache for wanting him. Wanting him inside me, stretching me, claiming me, using me for his pleasure. I roll my hips beneath him as I tug on the ends of his hair, trying to pull him closer. But then he’s easing back. Kneeling between my thighs, starting at my wet needy center.

Then he lifts one of my legs and bends it back, my bent knee resting in the crook of his elbow as he spreads me wider open.

“Where do you want it, Payton?” He slaps the tip of his cock against my mound as he asks. “You didn’t say exactly where you wanted it. Should I put it here?” He nudges against my asshole with the tip of his cock and I clench out of reflex.

“You can,” I offer.

“You think you could take me this way?” He raises a brow in challenge, the tip of him pressing just enough to feel a slight burn, but not enough to make any real progress.