Chapter Thirteen Ingrid and King #3
My hips test his position. The first pulse makes me jump, his fingertips coming into contact with my slippery folds. King keeps searching until he finds my clit. “Better.”
“My hand can stay here?”
“Uh-huh.” Please stay there. Right there. The short bursts of pleasure make me ache for more, but the bulge that rests along my thigh is... alarmingly big.
King’s fingers move in delicious circles, right where I wanted him, like he’s reading my mind. “Mmm. Mmmm. More.” The moans turn into words, and I don’t know what I’m asking for, not exactly. My pussy twitches in excitement when I let myself think about more of him. More King. More parts of him.
That cock... I’ve had guys who were average or less. Never big, above average, or off the fucking charts.
Damn it, now I’m curious to know what happened on those “one-night encounters” he mentioned... Was it just the tip? A couple of inches? Do I need to work up to him?
Probably, but with as wet as I am, maybe he’d just slip right in...
“You smell so good.” King looks into my eyes and removes his fingers from where they were doing an excellent job bringing me to a slow, rolling climax.
He sucks them, running his tongue expertly between his two digits, making me think sinful thoughts about his dextrous tongue. “You taste even better. Divine.”
“I—I do?”
“Mmmhmm. Want me to prove it?”
“How would you prove it?” I let out a little gasp when he pulls me up, dragging me over his chest, bringing me up to his shoulders. My hands hit the wall above his head. “We were just cuddling!”
“I wanted to prove how yummy you were. We could always go back to cuddling... after?” He asks, placing a kiss on one of my thighs.
“I’m seriously afraid I’ll suffocate you or something.”
“Then, according to Viking legend, I get to go straight to Valhalla,” he smirks, now kissing the other one, this time leaving a long, slow lick that stops at the place where my outer labia begins.
“You’re not a Viking,” I sputter, nerve endings cartwheeling around. His hands are squeezing my cheeks, his tongue is dragging and flicking across my skin, my pussy is like, right next to his chin...
“Well, I’m not wearing a helmet and sailing the seas, but I’m about to get wet.”
Ingrid shrieks when I hoist her up a couple inches and shimmy down, smothering myself with my so-soft Ingrid. Her thighs are like pillows, and her pussy...
Everything is hot and wet and pink, and my tongue doesn’t know where to go first. I want to be inside her sweet little slit, I want to be wrapped around her clit, sucking on her as I imagine her mouth wrapped around my cock.
I want to lap up her juices until they flow straight down my throat.
“I’m addicted to Ingrid. I’m an Ingrid-aholic,” I moan from my wet, erotic palace, face shimmying between her thighs and tusks pressing into her thick outer lips.
“Are you okay?” Ingrid asks, like I’m not in heaven.
“Okay is on some other planet. I’m awesome,” I groan, and I lock my hands around her waist so she can’t escape, buckling her in for what I hope is the best ride of her life.
All the phrases in the books say things like “her toes curled” and “electricity raced through her.” Or they use terms like “she was unmade” or “she came apart.”
Well, fuck, they’re right.
His tongue is as nimble as he is on the ice, swooping, flicking, and parting me to expose my most intimate secrets.
I gasp in and let out a high, shaking cry that I don’t even recognize when his lips fasten around my clit.
King delivers short, staccato sucks, reminding me of the air-pulse toy I have in my bedside table.
I’m afraid I’m going to drown him.
Or smother him.
Or snap his neck when I helplessly buck against his mouth. I have all the fears.
King squeezes his fingers deeper into my flesh. “Stop worrying. I can feel you worrying.”
“You can?” I ask as my toes curl.
Yep. Actually curl up tight as tingles race down my legs.
Sex has never been tingly.
“You have nothing to worry about,” he purrs, and he looks up into my eyes as he pulls me back into his mouth.
I don’t trust a lot of people. Comes from taking care of yourself and moving around a lot, but I decide to trust him on this and try to shut my mind off.
Just feel.
King makes it easy. He’s thorough and fast, and his groans of pleasure make me believe he wants this. Wants me. His tongue wriggles inside as his upper lip plays with my clit, and my walls tighten—spasm—on him, and I wonder what it would be like to have his thick cock in me instead of his tongue.
“You feel so amazing inside,” he whispers between wet, hungry gulps that make me blush, even as I start to get into a soft, steady rhythm, actually riding his mouth.
Never been this wet. Sex has never been this gloriously, soakingly messy. I can feel juice leaking down my legs, hear the soft, slick sounds when his tongue goes in and out... “You’re so good at this,” I pant, my hands leaving the wall and settling in King’s thick, dark hair.
“So tight,” he praises. “Can I try something?”
“Anything,” I say recklessly, mind wandering down some pre-orgasmic lane where everything is hot, wet, and intense.
One of his hands leaves my hip and moves between my legs. His tongue keeps up a steady lapping on my folds and clit while his fingers stroke around my entrance, flirting with the inside.
He has big hands. Thick fingers. The first hint of penetration makes me gasp, anticipation actually being as good as the moment itself for once in my life. My hips rock back again, and I sheath him in me.
“Her eyes rolled back in her head.” That’s another one of those cliches, right?
But mine do. Two of his fingers push into me and start to thrust, and it’s bigger than the biggest human guy I’ve ever had.
Clit in his mouth, his sucks turn hard and feverish, and my hips start to slam back against his pistoning fingers.
.. Yep. Eyes roll back. White hot surges of pleasure make me mutter frantic curses, filling the bedroom with desperate little hisses.
“King, King, fuck, yes, I’m going to... I’m going to. ..”
“Yesss, sweetie. I want you to. I wanna watch your pretty pussy gush all over my hand.” King’s voice is muffled and eager, his fingers moving faster, pressing forward, pressing into a spot that makes me screech each time he hits it, and like he’s tracking my sounds, he targets it over and over, and—
I let out a shout that sets the dogs barking downstairs as hot juice splashes out of me in a burning rush, leaving King soaked and my thighs shaking.
Did I just squirt?
Oh, God, please tell me I squirted, not peed.
“Mmmmm.” King sounds thoroughly content, and his fingers slowly trail from me.
I topple to the side, thoroughly shook.
Best sex ever. And the guy never even took off his pants.
My hot young hunk of a hockey player is looking at me while he’s sucking his fingers clean.
“Good?” he asks, suddenly looking worried.
Well, I don’t blame him. I’m just staring at him in disbelief.
“Ingrid?” He starts to sit up, and now I can see that his collar is wet, too.
“Wow.”
“Too much?”
“I squirted.” Oh, yes, Ingrid, let’s state the obvious. The guy is wearing you.
King looks proud of himself. “That means it was good, right? I found ‘the spot.’”
I have to chuckle. “Yes, you found the spot. Um. I’m sorry I got you all wet.”
The smugness vanishes into confusion. “I’ve never been close with someone like that. I thought I was supposed to be wet. There’s a verse in Ultarn the Prolific’s book—”
“Sorry, back up? Ultarn the—”
“Prolific. Basically, a really awesome Orc from the old days who wrote a huge book on being a good husband. I think it’s something like, ‘She is the river that you drink from.’ He could have been being symbolic, but most of us think he was talking about actually.
.. You know. Finding the yummy lady chalice. ”
The chuckling is now full-blown, helpless laughter. “Yummy lady chalice?”
“Not my smoothest line.”
“No, but I liked it. And I was... yummy?”
“Get back up here. I want another drink.” King tugs me to him, and I giggle and squirm away.
“Stop that. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
He sighs dramatically. “Okaaaay. If we have to.”
I help him sit up, then figure I should get some wet, soapy towels and do a quick sponge bath kinda thing before helping him to the bathroom.
He probably won’t fit in my shower, and he can’t stand up on a wet, slippery tile floor on one leg.
Maybe he could sit on the ledge of the tub, where I usually keep my bath salts and candles?
I hurry to the bathroom, letting light spill into the room from the open door.
“Ingrid? You good?”
“I’m great.” And I realize I am. I feel amazing. Physically amazing and emotionally happy, if a little confused. I don’t just walk to the bathroom, I strut, half-naked and absolutely sure his eyes are fixated on my ass. I may put a little extra sway in my walk, and my ego swells.
“Hot damn, woman. No one should be allowed to walk like that in front of a man on crutches. I can’t get over there and grab a handful as fast as I want.”
“Well, I’ll be right back, and you can grab some then,” I tease. That was good. So intimate. And this feels... natural. There’s laughter and lust and— No. I feel like that’s enough L-words for now.
I also feel like whatever inhibitions I was carrying got screamed out of me. I feel sexy. That’s not something I usually feel, and I think I like it.
“I think I’ll be okay in the shower,” King says suddenly.
When I return, I see he is on his feet (well, one foot) and leaning against the wall. In the light from the bathroom and hall, his erection is not just a bulge, it’s a mountain.
He didn’t ask for help with it.
But I suddenly want to help with it. I picture us, wet and soapy, my hands on his cock.
“Nurse Ingrid is here to give you a sponge bath,” I say with a wink.
“Um.”
Fuck, he’s so adorable when he looks sexy, tousled, and nervous.
“What if I help you into the shower?” I say. “I think you’re too tall to stand under the shower head, but it detaches. There’s a nice, wide ledge at the back of the tub. I can move all my shampoo bottles and stuff and put a towel there so you can sit.”
“That’s not necessary.”
I sashay over and lean with him, my wet washcloth gently easing over his face. My free hand glides down his chest and stops at his waistband. “I’m thinking about how my hands would feel wrapped around you. All warm, and wet, and soapy...”
“Mm!” His startled noise is one of pure, pent-up longing.
“Would you let me make you come?” I whisper, my voice deliberately seductive. I have no idea who I am or what I’m doing right now, but I like it. I tell myself I can figure out how sexy, confident, Orc-fucking Ingrid fits into my life in the morning.
“No, you don’t have to. I didn’t do that to get anything back,” King whispers, shaking his head.
“I know. That’s why I really, really want to explore you, like you explored me.” I flutter my lashes and watch him melt. “You stay here, I’ll get the shower ready.”