Page 69

“Me first,” he grunted, his voice low and gravelly, laced with that commanding edge that made my nipples tighten painfully against his t-shirt. Then his hands were on my hips, calloused palms rough from the manual work he did, lifting me from the stool to the kitchen table in one smooth, effortless motion. Plates clattered to the side, silverware rattling like distant thunder, and a fork hit the floor with a metallic ping that echoed off the tiled walls. Neither of us cared, the world narrowing to the slick heat building between my legs.

He hooked his fingers in the waistband of my panties and pulled them down my legs in a slow drag. The fabric peeled away from my soaked pussy with a faint, obscene stickiness, leaving me bare from the waist down on his kitchen table, the wooden surface cool and unyielding against my heated skin. He spread my thighs with hands that were calloused and warm and impossibly gentle, thumbs tracing the sensitive inner skin, parting my folds to expose the glistening pink flesh to the morning light filtering through the window. I was drenched already, my juices slicking my thighs. The way he looked at me, eyes dark and hungry, devouring every inch like I was the most incredible thing he’d ever seen, made my cheeks burn with a flush that spread down my chest, and my thighs clenched instinctively, trying to hide how my clit throbbed under his gaze.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he breathed, his voice thick with reverence, leaning in close enough that I could feel the warmth of his exhale ghosting over my exposed cunt.

“Tyson, if you don’t put your mouth on me in the next three seconds…” My words trailed off into a needy whine, my hips lifting off the table in silent plea, pussy aching to be filled, licked, claimed.

He dropped to his knees with a thud that vibrated through the floor, his broad shoulders nudging my legs wider, knees pressing into the cold tiles. His mouth found me and the sound I made probably scared wildlife for a mile radius, a high, keening cry that tore from my throat, raw and unfiltered. His tongue was hot and slick and devastatingly thorough, licking through my folds with a patience that bordered on cruelty, lapping up the creamy wetness that coated my slit like he was starving for it. He explored every inch, the flat of his tongue dragging from my entrance to my clit in long, deliberate strokes, mapping every spot that made me gasp. The sensitive hood, the puckered rim of my hole clenching around nothing. He catalogued every reaction with the focus of a man who intended to memorize me, his breath ragged against my skin, the scratch of his stubble rasping deliciously over my inner thighs.

“Oh fuck,” I gasped, hands flying to his hair, fingers tangling in the thick strands, pulling him closer as my hips bucked up against his face. “Right there. Don’t stop. God, your tongue feels so good on my pussy.”

Thank god he didn’t stop. He doubled down, tongue circling my clit with a rhythm that made my legs shake uncontrollably, the swollen nub pulsing under the wet pressure. When he sealed his lips around it and sucked hard with a filthy slurp that echoed in the quiet kitchen, I arched off the table so hard my elbow knocked the butter dish, sending it skittering across the wood with a clatter. Sparks of pleasure shot through me, my toes curling against the table’s edge, the coil in my belly tightening to the point of pain.

“So fucking wet for me,” he murmured against my skin, the vibration of his deep voice rumbling straight into my core, nearly sending me over the edge. His words were muffled by my flesh, hot breath fanning over my dripping folds as he dove back in.

His fingers replaced his tongue, two thick digits sliding inside me with a wet squelch, stretching my walls as they pushed deep, coated immediately in my slick arousal. He curled them, found that spongy spot inside that made sparks fire behind my eyes, and worked it with a steady, relentless pressure, thrusting in and out, the pad of his fingers rubbing in firm circles that had my juices leaking out around his knuckles, dripping down to the table beneath my ass.

“Tyson, I’m gonna…” My voice broke on a sob, my body trembling, breasts heaving as I panted, nipples scraping against the fabric of my top with every ragged breath.

He hummed encouragement against me, the low buzz vibrating through my clit like a live wire. The vibration, combined with his fingers pumping faster now, sloppy, wet sounds filling the air, and his mouth sucking greedily on my clit, the way he gripped my thigh with his free hand, holding me open and exposed, his nails digging into the flesh… All of it broke something loose inside me. I came so hard my vision whited out, a scream ripping from my lungs as my pussy convulsed around his fingers, gushing hot fluid that soaked his hand and chin. My thighs clamped around his head, trapping him against my spasming cunt, fingers pulling his hair hard enough that he groaned against my pussy, the sound muffled and primal, sending aftershocks rippling through me.

He worked me through it, tongue gentle now, lapping softly at my oversensitive folds, easing me down instead of driving me up, not stopping until I was twitching and pushing weakly at his head, my clit too tender, my body a boneless puddle of sweat and satisfaction.

He stood slowly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, the motion smearing my slick across his skin, leaving his lips and chin glistening with my cum. He looked devastatingly proud of himself, chest rising and falling heavily, eyes so dark they looked black, pupils blown wide with lust.

“My turn,” I panted, sliding off the table on legs that had zero structural integrity, knees wobbling as I steadied myself against his chest, feeling the rapid thump of his heart under my palm.

“Sam, you don’t have to…” His protest was half-hearted, voice rough, but his cock twitched visibly in his sweats, betraying how badly he wanted it.

I dropped to my knees before he could finish the sentence, the tiles hard and unforgiving against my skin, but I didn’t care, the hunger was building in my throat. I hooked my fingers in his waistband and pulled his sweats down, the fabric catching briefly on his erection before his cock sprang free, hard and flushed and impressive enough that my mouth literally watered, saliva pooling under my tongue at the sight. It was thick, veined, the head purple and swollen, a bead of pre-cum pearling at the slit, the whole length curving slightly upward, heavy with need.

I wrapped my hand around the base, felt the weight of him, the heat searing my palm, the silky skin sliding over the rigid core as I gave it a slow squeeze.

“Christ, Sam,” he groaned, his stomach clenching under my gaze, abs tightening into ridges as I stroked him once, slowly, thumb swiping over the tip to spread the salty pre-cum down the shaft.

I looked up at him through my lashes, holding his eyes as I leaned in. “Been thinking about this. About sucking your cock, tasting you explode in my mouth.”

“Fuck,” he rasped, his breath hitching, hands hovering uncertainly before settling lightly on my shoulders.

I licked a slow stripe from base to tip, the flat of my tongue dragging over the underside, tasting the salty tang of his skin mixed with the musky hint of his arousal, watching his stomach clench tighter, a bead of sweat trickling down his happy trail. I swirled my tongue around the head, dipping into the slit to lap up more pre-cum, the flavor sharp and addictive on my taste buds, and his hands found my hair with a reverence that made my chest ache, fingers threading gently but firmly, guiding without forcing.

I took him into my mouth inch by inch, letting him feel every bit of heat and suction, my lips stretching around his girth, tongue pressing flat against the vein that pulsed there. I took my time because the sounds he made were addictive. Desperate, wrecked sounds, groans that vibrated through his whole body, hips twitching forward involuntarily as I hollowed my cheeks and sucked.

“Sam, baby…” His hips jerked, a low curse escaping him. “Your mouth. Fuck, your mouth is incredible. So hot, so wet, like it’s made for my cock.”

I hollowed my cheeks deeper and took him further, relaxing my throat as the head bumped the back of my mouth. I gagged softly but pushed on, one hand working what my mouth couldn’t reach, twisting and stroking the base slick with my saliva, the other gripping his thigh, nails digging into the muscled flesh, feeling it tense under my touch. He was big enough to make my jaw ache, the stretch burning deliciously, and I didn’t care, not with the way he was shaking above me, thighs quivering, breaths coming in harsh pants that filled the kitchen. Not with the way his fingers trembled in my hair, pulling just enough to send zings of pleasure-pain down my spine.

“Sam, I’m not gonna last…” His voice was strained, breaking on the words, his cock twitching on my tongue, more pre-cum leaking steadily.

I sucked harder. Faster. Twisted my hand on the upstroke, thumb pressing into the sensitive spot just under the head. His grip tightened, hips stuttering forward in shallow thrusts, fucking my mouth with restraint that frayed by the second, and he came with a hoarse shout of my name that echoed through the kitchen, bouncing off the cabinets.

Thick ropes of cum erupted across my tongue, hot and bitter, flooding my mouth as I swallowed greedily around him, milking every spurt, the salty fluid sliding down my throat while some dribbled from the corner of my lips. I worked him through the aftershocks, tongue swirling gently over the oversensitive head until his legs buckled and he had to catch himself on the counter, knuckles white against the granite, chest heaving.

“Holy shit,” he whispered, voice hoarse and awed, pulling me up as I stood on shaky legs, grinning triumphantly, my lips swollen and shiny with his release. Now we both had matching lipstick.

He hauled me against him and kissed me deeply, no hesitation, his tongue plunging into my mouth to taste the remnants of himself mixed with my own flavor from earlier. I could taste myself on his tongue, and he could taste himself on mine, and it was filthy and perfect, our mingled scents and flavors wrapping around us like a promise. My body pressed flush to his, still half-naked, pussy throbbing with renewed ache, and I wanted to do it all again immediately. Ride him on the table, feel him stretch me open, fill me with his load.

“That was…” he started, words trailing off into a dazed chuckle, his hands roaming my back, dipping to squeeze my ass.