Chapter 28
Twenty-Eight
Blair
“What did you just say?”
“You heard me. Take those panties off and get over here,” Tyson commands as he lays on the bed, head on the pillows like he’s waiting for me. His hands go behind his head and a tiny blip of nervousness hits me.
I do what he says and then crawl on the bed, kneeling between his legs.
“Don’t make me beg,” he teases.
“I might be too heavy. I don’t want to like… suffocate you,” I say, letting my insecurity out in the open.
Tyson sits up, brows knitted together. “Baby, I’m a professional athlete. I can lift your entire body weight. Believe me, you’re not too heavy. And suffocating while eating you out? Talk about a good way to go.” He smirks, laying back, and his confidence is contagious.
There’s a pool of need thrashing low in my belly, desperate for him.
Before I can let my brain bully me into anything else, I slowly crawl up, grabbing the headboard with my fingers. I go to lower myself on his face but his hands grab my thighs and pull me to him.
“Oh!” A startled sound creeps out of my mouth. I’ve never done this before and even though he’s reassuring me that this is what he wants, doubt still lingers.
Then he touches me with his tongue. He’s at my entrance, moaning when he tastes me, and he licks all the way up to my clit. Slow. Steady. Patient.
A moan falls from my lips, my hands gripping the headboard.
His tongue is flat on me when I gently move my hips. I move enough to feel his beard on me, the friction that inches me closer to my orgasm. It’s unlike anything I’ve felt before. The softness of his tongue, paired with the roughness of the skin around his mouth is fucking unreal.
I feel the doubt fall from me, the want for more taking its place. Ty’s fingers dig into my thighs as he works me. His tongue laps at me, long and slow, and I swear I feel him moan into me.
My knuckles are white, my hands gripping the headboard, holding myself up a little and reaching for my climax. I take a chance and look down. Seeing Tyson like this has the knots in my belly tightening, the strings pulling against each other—watching him is ridiculously hot.
His eyes find mine and I’m caught. Watching.
Riding his face. And enjoying the hell out of it.
He doesn’t stop, even as I take in every one of his movements.
His hands rub my thighs until he spanks me with one hand, the other digging into my ass on the other side.
The soft fullness of his tongue is a perfect contrast to the sharp stinging.
Inching me closer, my heart thumps in my chest, echoing throughout my body. I rock myself forward, looking for the friction of his mouth, the roughness of his facial hair.
“Yeah, baby. Ride me,” Ty moans before immediately going back to work.
His voice is like velvet, soft and something you can fall into, but devilish enough that it feels like a dare.
My body responds, picking up the pace, and then it’s me hitting just the right spot.
It’s like there’s nothing else in this world but me, Tyson, and the headboard.
Waves wash over me, my orgasm pricking at all the right nerve ends.
He doesn’t quit; he keeps licking and nipping at me, pulling me closer to him, being part of every single shock.
“Tyson!” The scream that leaves me is surprising. I’ve never been that vocal in the bedroom, but with him everything is different.
He keeps tasting me, all throughout my entire orgasm. When I’ve crashed out, top to bottom, and am nothing but a panting, satiated mess, lying next to him, he straddles me.
Tyson’s eyes pin me in place as he says, “I love when you scream my name.” He smirks and then leans down, my wetness on his lips, and kisses me.
It’s one of the most intimate moments, like it’s truly just the two of us.
Any of the self-doubt or questions has fallen away, and I don’t think they’ll be returning.
Tyson is one thing I’m 100% sure of.