Get Inked: A Pucked Series and Clipped Wings Crossover Novella (Pucked #5.5)(4)
My nipples pop out, and I may or may not drag my fingernails over them and moan rather loudly—for effect, of course. Randy huffs out a small laugh because he knows my game. His lips part, that smirky smirk of his still making the top one curl. I’m in for some amazing orgasms tonight. I’m already on the brink of one thanks to the teasing.
Now, let me be clear on something—prior to Randy, it used to take some work for me to have an orgasm. Whether it was with someone else or on my own, I required at least a good ten minutes of direct stimulation to reach that amazing state of bliss. But something about our particular brand of chemistry has changed that. I don’t know if our pheromones are in perfect sync, or we’re orgasm soul mates, or some other kind of soul mates, but all Randy has to do is look at me the right way, and I’m halfway to coming. It’s insane. I’m not complaining, though.
Randy runs the hand on my lower abs up over my stomach to palm my left breast. He captures the nipple between his fingers, then leans over me so he can take the other one between his lips. His soft beard tickles my skin, and the pressure between my legs increases. He’s now hovering over me, and it’s a lot of sensation. Everywhere.
He lifts his eyes as he flat-tongues my nipple, just like he’d do if his face was between my legs instead. His grin is pure evil when he closes his mouth over the tight peak and does the magic swirl with his tongue. I gasp and shudder when I feel his teeth.
“You’re getting close, aren’t you?” His voice is muffled by my boob, but I still understand.
“Uh-huh.”
He circles my clit, and I’m done. I try to lift my hips, but I can’t do much with the way he’s partly on top of me. It doesn’t matter anyway, since I’m coming like I haven’t had an orgasm in a week. In reality, it’s been less than sixteen hours. We had sex before I went to work this morning. Like I said, Randy likes to get his f*ck on. A lot.
He releases my nipple from his mouth and sits back on his knees again. “That sounded like it felt good.”
“So good,” I mumble. “You should give me another.”
“You think so, huh?” He captures my still-sensitive clit between two knuckles.
I jolt with the sensation, lifting my hips off the couch with a yelp.
“Too much?” He doesn’t take the pressure off, waiting for my reply instead.
I shake my head and take a few deep breaths.
“I don’t think I’m gonna take these off when I f*ck you.”
Goose bumps break out across my skin at his words and the expression on his pretty, rugged, sexy face. “Whatever you want, baby.”
“That’s right. I guessed right, so I get whatever I want.” His honey eyes drop to where he’s still fisting the crotch of my shorts. “How long you think you can hold this position?”
With my shoulders and head resting on one cushion I’m sort of doing a half-bridge. It’s a lot easier on the floor where I have a hard, stable surface as opposed to the couch, but I’m sure I can hold it for as long as I need to if more orgasms and moody dick are involved.
Sometimes Randy and I have plank-offs. Whoever wins gets oral. I’m up to six minutes now. I’m pretty sure I can hold this position at least that long. But it really depends on what’s at stake.
“As long as you need me to,” I say.
Randy’s grin is all devious sexiness. “Good answer, ’cause the longer you hold it, the more you get to come.”
My clit throbs at the mention of coming. Oh, sweet Jesus, Randy’s on a mission tonight. I don’t point out that he’s the winner, so he should probably be the one having all the orgasms. He hasn’t mastered the male multiple O yet, so I’m happy to manage that situation until he does.
Randy lets go of my shorts, which also means his knuckles are no longer pinching my clit. I make a sad sound, which quickly becomes a groan when he fists his extra-hard cock and gives it a stroke.
“I’m pretty sure these shorts are screwed.” He slips a finger through what I imagine is stretched-out material. However, I can’t see it because my head is way lower than my crotch.
“I guess so, since you’re about to screw me while I’m wearing them.”
Randy rubs the head of his cock over my clit. It’s like a jolt of electricity is shooting through my body, and its end point is his incredible penis. I make some kind of unintelligible sound or word, or a sound and word combined. And then his magic cock is gone and the noise I’m making isn’t a happy one.
“I forgot to do something important.” Randy crouches down and grabs my left ass cheek—I assume he may still be fisting his cock with his right hand.
The hot press of his tongue against my clit makes me gasp, but the slow stroke up makes me moan. Then Randy does the one thing guaranteed to make me come fast and hard. He doesn’t swirl his tongue or lick me like I’m an ice cream cone he wants to savor. Oh no. Randy flattens his tongue against my clit and starts sucking. I have no idea why this feels as good as it does, but every time it sends me right over the edge.
He doesn’t stop there, though, because this is Randy Ballistic we’re talking about, and he can go forever when he wants to. Also, he likes to torture me with orgasms sometimes, and tonight seems to be one of those nights. Instead of giving me some time to recover, he keeps sucking. So of course I try to escape his suctioning mouth by dropping my hips.