Chapter 6 #2
I can feel it just like a bass line bubbling just beneath the opening notes of a classic song.
“Look at me,” comes out as I lean back onto my palms. “Look at me like I don’t own you.”
The command has her gaze finding mine.
“Like I’m not here to change you in any way.”
A coyish grin threatens her expression. “You serenading me, Jukes?”
“I’m remindin’ you,” I continue to melodically speak, “to live life the way that you want.” Seeing a puck sized worth of confidence skating through her system convinces me to add, “To say and do and be whoever you fuckin’ please.”
Rather than say another word, I lightly hum the tune that was way ahead of its time.
The tune that I not so secretly hum to myself when the shit in media gets in my head.
Or stats don’t read like I want.
Or I worry that I’m too weird, too throwback to ever find who it is my soul’s been looking for.
Thank fuck, I finally found her.
Maybe her soul needs mine to learn some similar shit.
Gilly lightly begins to sing under her breath, face barely fluctuating to the beat, yet the more she finds her voice, the more her body openly sways to the rhythm.
Our eyes remain locked until her hands gently glide themselves along the curves she’s displaying in her dark red dress. At that point, I follow them.
Map out with my eyes what she is with her fingertips.
Lose myself in the visual strumming occurring each time she brushes her thighs.
Her stomach.
Her nipples.
Whimpering at the way they harden isn’t something I deny myself.
And neither is grumbling when I hear the faint sound of her zipper lowering or groaning when the fabric falls to her feet revealing a lacy, black pushup bra struggling to contain her tits.
“LutherTeddyMarvinhavemercy,” incoherently free skates during the folding of my frame forward to indulge in a deeper look. “No song could ever do you justice, Gillybean.”
The color of her dress coats her cheeks; however, she doesn’t stop her actions.
She d-man dives into them.
Kicks her chin upward and removes the only barrier that blocks her from being completely naked.
Every inch of her golden toffee brown skin summons me to scoot closer.
Drink her in.
Guzzle her down like an early morning espresso on a red eye to an out of country tourney.
My fingers unconsciously twitch in tandem with my tongue, desperate to trace each stretched line, circle the tiny moles, leave my mark in the form of bites near her dark nipples and bruises all along her thick, toned thighs.
There isn’t a single part of her that doesn’t somehow look soft and sturdy.
Supple and strong.
Tender and tended to, which is exactly what I plan to do for the rest of my fucking life.
“Can you be a good girl for me and turn around?” My tongue steals a wolfish swipe of my lips. “Nice and slow?”
“Be a good boy for me and use your manners,” she unexpectedly sasses back.
“Fuck,” escapes in a mindless muddled mess. “Please?” Sliding onto my knees in front of her occurs between pleading. “Please turn around and put that beautiful ass in my face.”
Not only does the woman I’m ready to start ring shopping for – I’m thinking yellow diamond like my favorite jellybean – fulfill my request, she takes it a step further by bending over to my right and planting her palms firmly on the mattress, giving me a full-on display that has my cock crying for attention.
I easily spin on my knees like I do on the ice and grant myself a view I could easily come from just looking at.
The combination of her beautiful round cheeks begging for my face to make a new home between them and wetness slathered along her inner thighs, imploring me to lap up any and every drop glistening, prompts me to proclaim, “So fuckin’ perfect, Gilly.”
Her face confidently curls over her shoulder.
“Fingers?” They lurch forward yet stop just short of touching. “Tongue?”
It’s her turn to whimper.
“Both?” An idea suddenly tips my head in intrigue. “Toy?”
Lips I wanna mount as much as want mounted on my dick create a perfect round shape on a purred, “Oh…”
“Looks like we have a play to make,” I announce prior to leaning over to grab the poorly hidden vibrator.
Executing the act itself is done slowly.
I wanna leave time for her to speak up.
Change her mind.
Express her insecurities or concerns or requests.
When the only thing that happens is the trembling of anticipation of her thighs, I happily hum to myself.
Excited to see ready and willing instead of nervous and hiding.
Extending the hot pink object for her to take is followed by me eagerly digging my fingers into both cheeks, savagely spreading them apart, and eagerly diving my tongue into her smooth pussy from behind.
Her scorching hot muscles gluttonously clamp down at the same time she releases a back bowing gasp. “Ohmyg-”
“No,” possessively escapes against her soaking lower lips, “my name or my number only, baby.”
Girlish giggles convince me to momentarily unwedge myself to find her gaze. “What makes you think I know your number, tendy?”
“My number is the only one you should know, Slayer.” Surprise stuns her silent, allowing me the segue needed to return to the lecherous play at hand. “Ready for me to give you the assist?”
Gillybean slowly nods and suggestively sways, indicating it’s gametime.
Just like when I’m between the pipes, taps to her cheeks are delivered, one and then the other, announcing I’m here.
I’m all in.
I’m gonna take care of my house until that final buzzer echoes.
Roughly sliding my tongue back inside doesn’t only receive a sharp gasp but the collapsing of her torso into a more comfortable position.
Vibrations easily begin not far from where I am, instructing me on what to do.
Where to focus.
The sauce to get lost in.
And goaliesunited it’s the best shit I’ve been on my knees for.
Light circles being continuously delivered to her clit convince me to match the pace but not the pressure.
Diving deeper and deeper and harder on every press, rocks her frame forward, so I yank it back.
By the cheeks.
By the hips.
By the thighs.
I keep control of the play by adding to the trembles the toy is creating.
Sliding the very tip of my tongue to where it’s rubbing.
Spinning it in the opposite direction to create carnal confusion.
Need.
Sounds of her nails clawing at the sheets alongside her heavier and heavier moaning have me smiling.
Dragging my tongue back towards her entrance.
Dipping once inside before slithering further upward to her other hole.
Instantly feeling her frame tense is expected just as much as the vocal objection that leaps past her lips, “N-” One long, lascivious lick completely severs the protest while a second rewrites it into something else entirely. “Thirty-five…”
“See,” I arrogantly chortle, words cascading down her crack, “you do know my number.”
Lazily whirling my tongue around the taut territory twice precedes me languorously sliding back between her sopping wet lips to the tremoring muscles, anxiously waiting for more attention.
Gilly warmly welcomes the return by rocking back.
Bumping her cheeks into mine.
Swiveling her figure to match my savage swiping.
And the instant she senses I may snake back up to tease her ass a second time, she stretches her arm behind her to grab a fistful of my hair to ensure I stay right where I am.
Her brazen behavior spurs my mouth to move faster.
Lick and suck and suck and spin and slip out to aid her toy in its ceaseless rubbing.
Juices callously coat my cheeks and chin.
Continuously drip down my nose and neck.
Tugs of my hair start to match the buckling of her body pushing mine to throw itself into every tongue thrust, every swipe, every twitch until the most divine sound in existence begins reverberating off the walls.
A sound so fucking heavenly there’s no denying I owe God a favor for granting me permission to hear it.
To be the reason for it.
“Thayneeeeeee!” Feral scratching of my scalp is attached to even more euphoric moaning. “Yesss!Yesss!Dontstop!Pleasedontstop!” Hearing her breath hitch makes not being able to breathe that much more worth it. “Thaynnneeeee!”
My name.
My number.
My Slayer.
All on our official first date.
Like our family saying goes…when you know…you know.
Whether that’s about recipes or properties or work or death or love.
Your soul knows.
You just gotta trust it.
And I sure as hell trust mine.
Gillian Blanc is meant for me.
I just hope she knows how to trust hers too.