64. Crazy #4
His face sinks into the curve of my neck as his fingertips at my thighs inch up my dress. “Baby, I’m beggin’ you. Lemme use both—mouth and hands,” he says into my throat, his thumb hooking my wet panties right at my slit, feeling my wet lips, the damp licking his warm knuckle.
“Fuckin’ Christ, please,” he chokes, voice gravel as he slides my panties down and grips my ass to steady me as he peels them away.
He shoves them into his pocket.
“Please. I’ll make it good,” he begs, lifting my leg, planting my boot on the ledge of the open window next to us. “Swear on my life, I’ll make it so fuckin’ good.”
I push him down at the shoulders,
needing his mouth right there,
right now.
With a dirty grin,
he drops to his knees, gone—bunching my tight dress up over my hips, mouth trailing my hipbones, my pelvis, leaving me whimpering like a dumbass with my fingers in his hair.
Then he slows all the way down,
his mouth hovering between my thighs,
his breath blowing hot.
His hands slide down,
eyes falling heavy on my pussy
as his thumbs trace the frame of it,
the pads crawling down the lips.
Then he’s easing me open wider, wider—until my slit yawns open and heat hits his mouth.
For one heart-hanging moment, every nerve inside me lights up as he holds me spread, exposed, raw, baring me to the cold air, to his gaze that’s soaking in the sight as he stares at every inch of me.
Breath fucked, his eyes climb up ‘til they hit mine—two bottomless black holes, gasping for air.
“Allison…” Just my name, dragged through gravel from his chest. His throat works around a swallow. “Fuck,” he grinds out, eyes sliding back to my pussy, where his thumb hooks me,
and he dips the tip inside my entrance.
Only the pad at first,
watching me gush hot around it,
before fucking in to the knuckle.
My knees stutter, and I hold on,
nails sinking into his hair, spine tingling.
“God—Drew.” My head drops back against the brick, every drag of his thumb stirring heat inside me as the winter bite pinches my clit.
“Allison. Fuck.
“Open a little more for me,” he groans.
“I am open, you greedy fuck,” I break.
His rough laugh hits my skin,
and he grabs me,
tilting my hips forward.
“That’s it.
“So fuckin’ sexy right here.”
I feel drip spill out warm.
I’m soaking his hand, I know it.
And he still hasn’t put his mouth on me.
His other thumb catches my lip,
spreading me wider,
and his gaze fucking drowns in the view. “Just so we’re on the same page, baby—anybody walks in and sees you spread open for me, I’m goin’ to prison.”
His hooded eyes flick back to mine,
locking as he leans closer,
one long, starved lick through the slick of me, from where his thumb’s grinding, until my clit’s under the heat of his tongue.
I melt into it, grabbing his hair—
When his mouth closes over my clit, tongue dragging under it sweet until it swells.
A shudder crawls under my skin.
A sound breaks from my throat—
half moan, half fuck-you-for-doing-that-with-your-eyes-still-on-me.
After another deep, flat lick through my slit, his head tips back into my hand, eyes heavy as he shows me the cream sittin’ on his tongue, his mouth slick and smug as it melts.
My knee almosts buckles, my body turning useless from the sight alone.
“Yeah. Finally got my girl creamin’,” he rasps out, brushing his bottom lip across my clit, and a fever pours fast to the rest of me.
My thighs clench.
“Your girl doesn’t cream.”
Andrew’s smirk is wet with my arousal.
“For me, she does.
“And she tastes so… fuckin’… good…”
I’m staring down at him,
my fingers raking the back of his neck,
wanting to pause this second,
the way he’s looking up at me,
hot, obsessed, wrecked,
and a little ruthless.
Each pass gets messier,
cream clingin’ to the corners of his mouth, the taste pulling moans out of him.
Every time I sink lower,
his tongue slides deeper.
Every time I grind down,
his mouth parts wider.
And when my orgasm climbs,
dripping hot,
he opens me up and eats what spills.
And just before I come, he rips himself away from my pussy with my cream coating his tongue. He rises slow, drunk on me, grabs my jaw, forcing my lips open,
and sweeps his tongue across mine.
We moan together with my arousal melting in our mouths.
“Fuck, Allison.
“I need inside you. Now.
“Right now.”
Between us, his hand falls to his zipper,
his eyes blown and burning alive.
He pops his button,
unzips,
then his cock’s flushed, angry, leaking,
laying heavy in his fist.
“Turn around,” he says against my lips.
But then I go rigid.
“Drew—I—” I shake my head.
I don’t do that.
I don’t have sex that way.
I don’t let anyone fuck me from behind.
Not unless I’m forced to or punishing myself. He knows that. He knows that…
My body panics
before my brain can catch up.
He draws closer.
“Feel who’s got you,” he murmurs,
turning me slow,
pinning my spine to his chest.
He hooks a hand under my thigh,
raises it and sets it on the ledge.
“Feel my breath,
“my mouth,
“my heartbeat…”
He presses heavy against my opening,
his lips brushing hot against my temple.
“My fuckin’ cock,” he says,
pushing his thick head in,
and my pussy grabs him, squeezes him,
trying to pull him deeper faster.
He groans, pushing in ‘til he bottoms out, a heavy ache dissolving into liquid heat in the deepest part of me.
His chest stutters.
“My fuckin’ God… Feel that?” His other hand slides down the front of me, pinning me to his hips with two fingers on my clit. “This is it. Always was.”
My head falls back on his shoulder, and his mouth traces the curve of my neck as his hips thrust a rhythm that rolls deep and ruins me—sliding out slow enough to make me chase him, driving back in hard enough to shut my mouth.
My body melts right there—
sinking onto his cock, his skin, his hand,
the scent of salt, sin, the hint of his cologne burned into his throat.