Folk Around and Find Out (Good Folk: Modern Folktales #2)(113)
I’d have her on this desk. But first, I’d taste her on it, and then I’d tell her all the ways I wanted her.
Letting my hand slide from her lips, I observed her closely—hungrily—and said, “You want me to fuck you, don’t you? You want my cock inside you, filling you up.”
She exhaled another whimper, her legs widening as she rocked back, her lashes flickering again, and I almost came in my pants where she stroked me.
No, no! Not yet.
“Let me know when you’ve got it open and ready for me.” Removing her hands, I held one captive against my thigh and slid the other around to my back pocket. Staring into her hazy eyes, I helped her pull out my wallet.
“Now spread those long legs and show me that pretty cunt,” I said, giving her a nipping kiss.
Unintelligible words, more squeaks than sounds, fell from her lips. Her eyes looked lost to the moment and my words, and damn if I didn’t love that look. The hand holding my wallet shook as I lowered to kneel and spread her knees wide, licking my lips as she revealed herself.
“So fucking pretty,” I whispered.
The muscles in her legs flexed. “Please,” she said, sounding strained and carefully quiet. “Please. Hank.”
My mouth watered and I leaned forward, using my thumbs to separate her folds, wetting my lips and brushing them against the tight, swollen bundle of nerves at the very center of her. She was wet and lush, heat and soft perfection. I lapped at her slowly, groaning at the taste, dragging the flat of my tongue over her clit until her legs began to shake, her hips tilting upward subtly, searching instinctively for more.
Quiet words continued to spill out of her, praise and pleas. I smiled, undoing the button on my jeans and lowering the zipper. Refusing to give her what she needed to see stars—not yet—I kept the pressure soft, reveling in the silky texture of her and her sweet, imploring sounds.
Pulling out my cock, my eyes flicked up, crashing into hers. She’d been watching me, her foggy gaze transfixed on where I’d been working her. But she hadn’t removed the condom from my wallet yet. Her hands gripped the desk uselessly, her knuckles white against the edge.
Swiping my tongue over my lips and tasting her there, I leaned back to show her where my hand was wrapped around my dick and lifted my chin toward my wallet.
“Don’t make me ask again.”
Her body stiffened and she beat her eyelashes at me. “Oh! God. Sorry.”
Sliding my fingertips up the back of her leg, along the inside of her thighs, I parted her folds again, this time using my index and middle finger. Keeping my eyes on her progress with the packet, I traced circles around her clit with the pads of my fingers and slipped my thumb inside her body. She tensed, her attention shifting from the square package she’d just revealed to my gaze, then lower to where I grasped my cock in time with how my thumb stroked her.
Charlotte started to pant, her trembling fingers ripping open the packet. Abandoning her body and mine, I reached up and took the condom from her before she did something tragic, like inadvertently unroll it or poke a hole in it, which would likely spell the death of me.
“That’s my angel,” I said, kissing the inside of her thigh lightly before returning my attention to her pussy, giving her more friction from my tongue and harder strokes. I ached, painfully hard, and rolling on the condom took no time at all. The sounds she made, how her fingers slid into my hair and tugged, how she yanked me forward and pivoted her hips against my face, I had to fist myself at the base to keep from finishing before we’d even started.
A short, desperate sound ripped from her and I glanced up. Her hands abandoned my hair. She covered her mouth with both palms, her eyes closing, and I felt the first tremors of her climax against my tongue. I removed my mouth and she whined, her eyes flying open to lock with mine.
I smiled. I stood. I grabbed the edges of her dress and pulled it over her head. I lowered my mouth to her breast, tonguing it as I’d tongued her clit, and guided her head beneath the hutch of the desk. I laid her back and positioned myself at her entrance, the blood rushing between my ears reaching a crescendo as I pushed inside, filling her with one slow, long slide.
She groaned. As did I. Then I sucked in a breath and slid my hands to her knees. Bringing them up and encouraging her heels to rest on the edge, I spread her wider and moved. Knowing it would feel this good did nothing to diminish the perfection of it. The sight of her naked body spread before me, how her breasts bounced with each invading thrust, her yielding surrender—she could not be more perfect, nothing could.
Her hands remained clasped over her mouth and enthusiastic sounds slipped past her fingers despite her best efforts to muzzle them.
“I knew you’d feel this good.” I’d stopped giving my words premeditated thought and I said what I wanted, not what I believed she needed to hear. It was a submersion in the moment, nothing like I’d ever experienced before. It was a confrontation, holding us accountable for every pleasure-seeking stroke, every greedy touch, every erotic thought.
“Let me look at you.” Rising over her for a better look, I licked my lips as my gaze trailed over her, lowered to where we were joined. “I now know what you taste like, what it feels like to fuck you. Every time I look at you, this is what I’ll be thinking about.”
She moaned. It fed the hunger in me she’d awakened. I loved this. Our choices were inescapable when we spoke them out loud. The words rubbed my skin raw. I felt heated, oversensitive.