Chapter 20
“Can I go down on you?”
Cynthia froze as the words penetrated her cloudy senses. They were a tangle of limbs, half-unbuttoned pants, and sliding bra straps, when Rohit’s question brushed against the sensitive skin just below her earlobe. He punctuated the request with a gentle bite and Cynthia shivered.
“What?”
Rohit propped himself onto his elbow and tenderly brushed a lock of hair back from Cynthia’s face. “I want to eat you out until you faint.” His solemn face broke out into a half smile. “Or until I do. Until whoever has less stamina passes out.”
“Probably you,” Cynthia retorted on a gasp as his fingers traced the band of her underwear, patiently awaiting permission.
Rohit’s eyes trailed downward to his waiting fingers and, as if he couldn’t resist, his hand slid down to cup her.
But Cynthia couldn’t be embarrassed by the wetness seeping through her panties, not when Rohit inhaled sharply, his hand tensing against the proof of her desire before squeezing her gently.
She wanted this too much.
“Can I go down on you,” he repeated in a raspy voice, dragging hooded, lust-drunk eyes back to her face. “Please?”
“Yes,” she replied because what other response was there when he looked at her like that?
Rohit’s answering smile was so much more than the charm and charisma Cynthia knew so well—there was relief there, too, and an eagerness that made her center pulse and ache to be touched.
Cynthia arched her hips upward and tugged off her pants, aware that Rohit watched her every move as if committing the slide of fabric down her legs to memory.
When she hooked her fingers on the sides of her panties, he stopped her.
“No,” he said, his voice tight and hoarse. “Please, let me.”
Cynthia’s heartbeat pounded in her ears as she slowly pulled her hands away to rest above her head, palms up, surrendering. When Rohit didn’t move, her fingers gripped the bedsheet and she cleared her throat.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
Tipping his head back, Rohit closed his eyes and exhaled on a rough chuckle, and Cynthia made a mental note to lick the column of his throat later.
“Nothing. I’ve just fantasized about this moment an embarrassing number of times and now that it’s happening…
” He met her gaze and a small, self-deprecating smile quirked his lips. “I need a minute to calm down.”
Cynthia laughed as Rohit moved between her thighs and, once again, traced the top of her underwear with his finger.
Back and forth, back and forth, the tip of his index finger scorched a teasing line against her skin.
When Cynthia’s hips began to shift restlessly, Rohit smiled wickedly and moved his finger to trace the outline of her underwear against her right thigh.
Back and forth, back and forth.
“Get on with it,” she ordered, inwardly wincing at how impatient she sounded. Not sexy.
But Rohit’s eyes smoldered. “Damn. Why does that voice always turn me on?”
“You like when I’m bossy?”
He nipped the inside of her thigh. “Since the start.”
Before she could unpack that one, he leaned forward and pressed a lingering, closed-mouth kiss to her covered slit and breathed her in.
Cynthia dug her heels into the mattress, forcing herself to stay still as Rohit’s tongue lapped her through her underwear.
This was a new experience for Cynthia, but the damp pressure where she needed it most coupled with the friction of her black cotton underwear against her clit was surprisingly pleasing.
It felt good and it made her hot, but it wasn’t enough for the tightness she felt there—that she felt everywhere. She wanted to unravel and she wanted it now .
As if sensing her impatience, Rohit pulled off the barrier with rough, undisciplined hands and yes , that was what Cynthia needed. She wanted him as frantic as she felt. Before the air could cool the wetness between her thighs, Rohit’s mouth was there, tongue exploring every soft fold.
Cynthia closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation of Rohit’s mouth on her, his grip firm where he held her hips.
The sound of his wet tongue on her even wetter flesh was the only sound in the quiet room and the realization made her feel downright sinful, her body loose and pliant under his attention.
But it wasn’t until his tongue flicked her clit hard that Cynthia was powerless against her hips bucking upward as a spasm of raw pleasure shot up her spine.
Perhaps she’d been wrong about Rohit’s stamina because he began feasting on her anew, his tongue forceful and merciless, flicking and swirling in a dozen wonderful patterns that wound Cynthia so impossibly tight that her toes began scratching at the sheets, her fingers curling into tight fists.
For once, she couldn’t analyze or anticipate his next move. She could only succumb to pleasure and let someone else take charge for a change.
Not just someone . Rohit.
Even as her entire body thrummed with the heady desire for release, a persistent thought vibrated in the back of Cynthia’s mind: she had only ever felt this way with Rohit.
She was as sure of this as she knew, despite his ministrations feeling so, so good, they wouldn’t be enough to send her over the edge. He had brought her close to that delicate, splintering place, but it wouldn’t be enough to free-fall.
When her hips eventually slowed and sank back into the mattress, Rohit’s head popped up. “What’s wrong?”
The note of uncertainty in his tone made her breath hitch and Cynthia squeezed her eyes shut, willing her body to do what she wanted it to do. To get the job done.
“Cynthia,” he prodded in a gentle voice. “Tell me what you need, and I’ll do it.”
Her voice was breathy, just shy of a needy whine. “What you’re doing feels great but…I need more…”
“More…?”
When she didn’t answer right away, Rohit’s left hand came to rest on her upper thigh as he waited.
But it wasn’t the gentle patience on his face that beckoned this difficult truth forward.
It was the quiet assurance of his large, warm palm against her skin: he wouldn’t pull away because she was being difficult or complicated or uncertain.
“Pressure,” Cynthia admitted quietly. “I need more pressure.”
She couldn’t help but close her eyes, just in case she was wrong about him. In the silence that followed her painstaking admission, Cynthia mentally coached herself not to react if frustration was splashed across Rohit’s face, if he walked away without a second glance.
But when she dared to open her eyes, another wicked smile was slanted across Rohit’s face.
“I have an idea,” he said, sounding peculiarly cheerful for someone who had just received the news that he was failing to bring his partner to orgasm. He flipped onto his back beside her. “Climb on.”
Cynthia raised herself onto her elbows and glanced at his lower half, still in dress pants and obviously erect. “What?”
Rohit was grinning at the ceiling in anticipation. “Sit on my face,” he said. “Ride me until you come.”
“Are you serious?” Cynthia looked down at her thighs and then his face, her neck heating. She’d never done anything like that before, had certainly never received an offer like this.
“Very.”
“I don’t think…” She trailed off and bit her lower lip.
“You don’t need to think,” Rohit assured her. “I’ve thought about this enough for the both of us. Many times.”
Cynthia remembered Rohit’s earlier confession of fantasizing about her, and a rush of potent awareness rolled over her, hot and almost strong enough to overcome her uncertainty. “What if…What if I suffocate you?”
“I can’t think of a better way to die.”
Her shyness dissolved and she couldn’t help but laugh as she moved to scoot up the bed. Gingerly, she straddled Rohit’s face, her hands resting on the top of her headboard for balance as she hovered above him on her knees.
“Cynthia,” he said from beneath her. “I want nothing more than for you to use my face to make yourself come. Please.” His hands rose to cup her hips and with subtle pressure, he coaxed her downward until, with a groan Cynthia could feel vibrating between her thighs, his lips made contact and he began devouring her.
Unsure of what to do, Cynthia tried to relax but her knees began to hurt, her thighs straining to stay upright in this position.
Maybe she’d just hold still for a few more minutes and fake it for Rohit’s sake.
It wouldn’t be one of her prouder moments but at least he was trying.
He deserved something for at least noticing her discomfort earlier and offering an alternative.
Cynthia swallowed a sigh and, to relieve the increasing ache in her knees, leaned forward on her hands so the headboard could bear some of her weight and—
Oh. Oh.
This position was interesting . The subtle shift forward pushed her clit into his upper lip, bringing her in direct contact with the delicious friction of his stubble.
It felt fucking good, and Cynthia couldn’t suppress a whimper as a jolt of pleasure shocked her core.
The coarse texture was similar to the rasp of cotton when Rohit had licked her through her underwear, but this was next level.
This was hard, and rough, and as Cynthia subtly ground her hips downward, she could feel herself growing even wetter on Rohit’s eager tongue.
Despite Rohit’s reassurance, the fleeting thought that she might actually be suffocating him threaded through her brain and Cynthia looked down.
Oh, shit. Rohit was looking right back at her, his dark gaze roving over her face as if drinking her in.
His eyes moved from her half-lowered lids to the flush on her cheeks and, lastly, her parted lips, and his irises completely disappeared into the black, inky depths of his dilated pupils.
When he met her eyes again, he looked so utterly devoted to her—to her pleasure and satisfaction—that any inhibitions that were holding Cynthia back flew away.
For a moment, it was like she could see herself through his point of view, and the picture that flashed before her eyes wasn’t messy or difficult or unapproachable.
She was beautiful. Her black hair falling forward, curtaining her face from everything but his appreciative view, one of the straps of her black bra sliding temptingly down her arm. Her back muscles flexing with every roll of her hips. She was disheveled and wild and powerful.
Cynthia felt inordinately sexy sitting on top of this man.
A man who made friends wherever he went and whose every word, action, and success seemed effortless.
A man who looked at her now like he was hers to command.
In that moment, Cynthia knew, without a doubt, that he would lie here and pleasure her with his mouth for as long as she needed—no, wanted —and then thank her for it afterward.
And she would believe him. That realization was all Cynthia needed to press her hands more firmly onto the headboard and hold on.
She began riding his face in earnest, mindless to everything except the swelling of her clit and the hard grind of her greedy hips as she sought fulfillment.
With every downward press and forceful, upward drag, the pleasure inside her coiled more tightly.
Sharpened. Her hamstrings burned deliciously as she ground against him, and she was vaguely aware of Rohit’s hands tightening on her hips, encouraging her to do it again. And again.
And again, until she was shamelessly chasing the sweet splendor of crashing over the edge.
So intent was she on her just-out-of-reach climax that she didn’t care that she was outright moaning now, barely noticed that one of Rohit’s hands had detached itself from her body, unbuttoned his pants, and was stroking himself with rough, uneven pulls.
In this moment, Cynthia had zero concern for how she looked or sounded and it felt fucking amazing.
Although she had, to a certain extent, orchestrated her own orgasm, it still shocked the hell out of her.
This was no sharp, delicious burst followed by a hot, preciously short moment of release.
The climax was devastating. Her entire body shuddered and her core throbbed like a winded heartbeat for what felt like endless minutes.
Her skin glowed with sweat and she was out of breath, chest actually heaving as she willed her boneless, satiated limbs to get moving so she could climb off him.
In the end, Rohit’s chuckle teased her clit one last time before he lifted her off him and gently deposited her to his side, leaving her nothing to do but enjoy the wake of tremors still fluttering through her.
Her heart felt like it might burst. Cynthia wasn’t sure if she wanted to climb back on or pass out, nor was she sure if the warmth flooding her cheeks was elation or mortification because, only moments ago, she had lost control of everything but the selfish desire for pleasure.
Pressing a kiss to his shoulder, Cynthia snaked her hand down his stomach. “Your turn.”
Rohit grabbed her wrist, stopping her. “Too late.”
“You…you came?”
“Cynthia Kumar was riding my face,” Rohit said with zero traces of embarrassment, and Cynthia’s toes curled in delight. “Of course I came.”
Cynthia moved her arm upward and hugged his chest instead. She couldn’t stop herself from squeezing tight, nor could she help but laugh when she heard Rohit’s dreamily murmured words:
“Yes, I would gladly die that way.”