Chapter 32
thirty-two
. . .
CONNOR
The second the words leave my mouth, I know exactly what I’m agreeing to.
It’s not everything I want. Just what Whitney needs right now—an orgasm.
And I’ll take it.
I slide onto the bed, leaning back as I slowly edge myself toward the headboard, like I’m laying myself at her feet.
Afraid if I move too fast, she might change her mind.
My hands stay open at my sides—empty, waiting—while my chest hums with anticipation and restraint and something dangerously close to devotion.
Whitney doesn’t hesitate.
She pulls her sports bra over her head, then shimmies out of her shorts and underwear. In seconds, she’s standing gloriously naked in front of me.
I’m tempted to sit up and stare. To memorize every inch of her. Because I haven’t seen her like this yet. I haven’t held the weight of her in my hands or sucked those perfect nipples into my mouth. Saliva hits my cheeks, and my cock swells just thinking about it.
But I can’t get ahead of myself. This is Whitney’s moment and I want to show her she can trust me to please her.
She climbs onto the mattress and straddles me, confidence rolling off her in waves.
She hovers, like she’s testing the space. It makes me acutely aware that every second of this is hers to give—or take away.
“You know how much power this gives me?” she says lightly, like she’s not absolutely wrecking me.
I look up at her and don’t bother to pretend otherwise. “I do.”
“I could end you.” Her mouth curves. “Death by suffocation.”
A rough laugh breaks out of me. “And I’d let you.”
She shifts, and the scent of her hits me.
It’s just enough for my breath to catch, and I feel it everywhere—how close she is, how real this is, how temporary it might be.
God, I want her.
I want all of her.
Right now, she’s only offering pieces, and I’ll take every last one.
“You’re very calm for someone in a vulnerable position,” she says.
I swallow. “That’s because I know what I want.”
Her brows lift.
I don’t joke this time. “Another taste of you.” I give her the honesty she gave me. “I’ve been fucking my hand thinking about the way you came on my tongue. I need it again.”
Her teasing smile falters. It’s not gone, just edged with something raw. Something that feels like being seen. She exhales slowly, like she’s steadying herself, and my chest tightens with the knowledge that she’s choosing this. Choosing me. Even if it’s only for now.
She lowers herself and it’s all I can do not to grab her hips and pull her down onto my mouth.
But I don’t rush her because I’d wait forever for her.
“You set the rules,” I say quietly. “I follow them.”
I see it in the way her shoulders ease, in the way her weight settles closer, like she’s decided I’m safe enough to want. Safe enough to use. Safe enough to trust with her body, if nothing else.
She studies my face, searching for something—hesitation, expectation, smugness.
She doesn’t find those because all I have for her is want.
Then, her hips rock forward like she’s testing out her power. Dropping just low enough that her sweet scent envelopes me, but not low enough that I can reach her.
A feral groan escapes me. “Are you teasing me, SailorGirl?”
“Maybe.”
She lowers again, this dragging the center of her pussy against my chin. She’s so fucking wet. I’m desperate to get my mouth on her.
“I’ll have you know, I’m not above begging.”
“I might be interested in that.”
“Please, Whitney.” I turn my head to kiss the inside of her thigh, before turning my attention back to her. “Let me lick your pretty little cunt.”
Her eyes flare with desire and I know that got to her. I know she’s just as desperate as I am.
She rocks against me again. This time lowering until she’s fully seated on my face.
My tongue eagerly dips into her slickness, lapping up her arousal like a starving man.
Because that’s what I am.
The warmth. The slickness. The scent of her sweet dripping cunt is nearly enough to make me come in my shorts.
“Fuck.” I groan against her. “So wet for me, baby.”
Giving her the pressure she craves, I flick my tongue ring against her clit, then suck the swollen bundle of nerves into my mouth.
“Connor.” She pants above me, her hands gripping the headboard as she grinds down on my tongue. “I love your tongue.”
Her thighs tighten against my head. She might actually suffocate me, but I’d die a happy man, tongue fucking the sweet cunt of my SailorGirl.
She tilts her pelvis and rocks again. Soon we find a rhythm, her hips rocking while my tongue fucks up into her, and her clit finds friction against my nose.
I stare up at her. So fucking beautiful. So damn confident.
She removes one hand from the headboard to grope her breast before teasing her tight nipple with her fingertips.
“I need more.”
So, I give her more.
I slip a hand between us, and thrust two fingers inside her.
My other hand finds her hip for leverage. With her pussy filled, I focus my tongue on her clit. Flicking it roughly until I feel her walls start to tighten around my fingers.
I’m focused only on her—on the way she reacts, the way everything tightens and gives at the same time—and it hits me harder than I expect.
I slow, just enough to drag it out, to feel it, to keep control even as it starts slipping.
Then I pull back, just enough to look at her.
Really look at her.
She’s flushed, wrecked, completely gone for it—and still right here with me.
It does something to me.
“Fuck, Whit. You’re so pretty like this. Letting me take care of you.”
“Oh, god. Fuck. Yes.” She moans.
“That’s it, baby. Let me have it.” I groan against her center and curl my fingers.
At my encouragement, Whitney’s pussy clamps down hard, and a moment later her orgasm spills out and slides over my tongue.
It’s fucking unreal how good she tastes. How I’ve already claimed her flavor as mine.
I grip her ass, holding her to me as I lick her clean. My chin and lips are drenched. My cock is leaking in my shorts. It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced.
I give her a moment to recover, then lift her up and roll her onto the mattress beside me.
Her cheeks are flushed. Her hair’s messy. And her tight nipples are hard and begging for my mouth.
“Even my pussy is chaotic.” She reaches up to wipe my chin with her thumb.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
I hold her hand at my mouth and suck her thumb inside, swirling my tongue around it until I’ve cleaned off every last drop.
She laughs. “It’s ridiculous how good your mouth feels.” She reaches between us to stroke my throbbing cock. “I bet your cock would be even better.”
Her hands slide along the inside of my waistband, then push it down to free my cock.
Once her hand is around me, stroking and teasing, I know I’m fucked. Because Whitney touching me like this is a dream. Something I’ve been playing in my mind for months.
It would be so easy to have her like this. To bury myself inside her and just feel good.
But she doesn’t trust me. And for once in my life, having that trust means something to me. I need it from Whitney, even if it takes time to earn.
I push back onto my knees, putting space between us that already feels like a mistake.
“I should get ready for dinner,” I say, like that’s the reason.
It’s not.
Her gaze drags over me, slow and deliberate, like she knows exactly what I’m doing—and exactly what I’m not.
“Right,” she says.
There’s something in her voice I can’t afford to look too closely at.
I stand, tuck my dick back in my shorts and head for the bathroom, returning a moment later with a warm washcloth.
“I got it. Thanks.” She takes the washcloth before I can offer to help. “I’ll see you at dinner.”
I hate leaving like this, but I force myself toward the door. Every step feels like I’m walking away from something I don’t get back.
I pause with my hand on the handle, just for a second.
Then I leave before I can change my mind.