23. Cole #2
Not that I wasn’t having the time of my life, because I was. If feasting on her was how I spent my final hours on this earth, I would die a happy man.
I speared my tongue deep inside her, feeling the walls of her cunt ripple around it and giving a few thrusts before retreating to focus on her clit again.
Bridget’s trembling thighs squeezed my head between them, creating makeshift earmuffs, but her cries of pleasure grew loud enough to still be heard.
“Fuck, Cole, I’m so close,” she panted.
She wasn’t the only one.
Giving oral had always been as much of a turn-on for me as receiving it. My throbbing cock was leaking, my hips rising from the mattress frantically. If this went on for much longer, I’d embarrass myself by spilling all over my stomach.
If only I had the use of my hands, I could throw her over the edge with a few well-placed strokes of my fingers. But since I didn’t, I doubled the efforts with my tongue, alternating between quick flicks over her clit and suctioning that bud between my lips.
That combination did the trick, and she came all over my face with a scream, soaking my chin and chest with her release.
She continued to rock over me, drawing out her orgasm by riding my tongue.
When I’d wrung out every last ounce of pleasure her body had to give, she collapsed to the side, our combined harsh breathing the only sound in the room.
Bridget let out a contented hum. “Holy shit. Gonna need a minute after that.”
My eyes slid shut as I lazily lapped up the arousal that clung to my lips. Wouldn’t be the worst thing to take a breather and calm down so I didn’t blow the second I was inside her—if that’s where she decided to take this.
Time lost all meaning as we lay there, recovering, but eventually, the woman I loved curled into my side. Her fingers ran a path up and down my chest as she pressed her lips to the skin of my flank, the featherlight kisses causing me to squirm.
I could hear the smile in her voice. “Forgot how ticklish you are.”
Grunting, I twisted to the side to escape her continued onslaught. “Are you ready to call it a night?”
Her head popped up, a sexy smirk pulling at a corner of her mouth. “Oh, baby, we’re not even close to finished.”
Rising to her knees, she pushed on the inside of my legs, demanding I spread them, then positioned herself in the open space on the mattress.
Her nails scored a path up my thighs, and I hissed. Distracted by the pain, I was caught off guard by the swipe of a tongue along the underside of my dick.
“Jesus fuck!” I shouted, my hips levitating off the mattress.
My chest heaved, my heart feeling like it was about to break free of my ribcage. And that had nothing on the renewed throbbing of my cock. I was on the verge of exploding, and she’d barely touched me.
When I managed to force my eyelids open, I peered down at the woman kneeling between my thighs. Bridget’s teeth were pressed into the plush pillow of her lower lip as she bit back a smile.
Her head dipped again, her hot breath fanning my throbbing flesh.
“Bridget,” I groaned her name as I humped the air, praying that one of my desperate thrusts would put me in contact with her sinful mouth.
I jolted when her touch skirted the crease of my thighs, tracing around my groin but never landing where I needed her most.
“Wicked woman.” My voice had grown so husky it was almost unrecognizable to my own ears. “I think you like torturing me.”
She hummed, agreeing. “Maybe I do.”
“Beautiful, put me out of my misery. Please. I’m fucking begging you.”
“Well, since you asked so nicely.”
Bridget placed a kiss to the tip of my cock, and I mentally tightened my grip on the reins of my control in preparation for her to swallow it whole when she withdrew, climbing off the mattress.
“Noooooooo.”
She peeked at me over her shoulder as she opened the top drawer of my nightstand. “Don’t worry. I have no plans to leave you unsatisfied tonight.”
Well, that was a relief.
The lighting caught on the metallic strip of condoms she produced.
Damn, she came prepared.
“Where’d those come from?” I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.
Bridget tossed one on the bed and discarded the rest. “I phoned a friend who hooked me up with both the jersey and the protection.”
Arizona. Of course.
I owed that woman some kind of gift, but I’d figure out what later. Right now, I was fully focused on the goddess who’d found her way back between my open thighs, tearing open the condom wrapper with her teeth.
Fuck, that was hot.
But completely unnecessary.
With the rolled ring of latex poised over my cock, I blurted, “We don’t need that.”
Freezing, Bridget slowly lifted her gaze to meet mine. “We kinda do. I’m not on birth control.”
“If you’re worried about getting pregnant, you don’t need to be. I had a vasectomy a few years ago.”
Green eyes widened. “Oh.”
Her tone gave nothing away, leaving me unable to tell if that was a good oh or a bad oh.
“If it makes you feel more comfortable, we can use it.”
“There’s nothing more I want than to feel you skin to skin,” she began.
Why does it feel like there’s a “but” coming?
“But—” Bridget blew out a breath.
There it is.
“It’s probably smart if I get tested first since I’m not one-hundred-percent certain my last partner remained faithful.”
I should be thanking her for doing what she could to protect me, but all I could think about was wringing that fucker’s neck.
It was almost enough for me to lose my erection.