Chapter 12 Dave
DAVE
We’ve barely cleared the threshold of her door before I’m burying my face in her neck, breathing in her intoxicating scent of vanilla with a hint of florals.
I can’t think straight; the blood is rushing toward the wrong head as I guide her backward toward the couch.
The only coherent thought left is the need to taste her. Now.
“Baby,” I murmur between kisses. “I need to—”
Sara cuts me off, pushing me down onto the cushions before settling over me. My hands move instinctively, gripping her ass. God, she has a perfect ass—round, soft, tempting enough to make me want to sink my teeth into it.
Later, I tell myself.
If I can hold out that long.
“Sara, baby,” I manage. The way her tongue is exploring me is making it nearly impossible to think. Still, I force the words out. “I need to taste you.” My voice edged with desperation. “Please. Can I?”
Her pupils are blown wide, her gaze glazed and dark.
“Taste me?” she repeats, brow furrowing slightly, like the idea is brand new. “No one has ever wanted to…” she whispers.
“Are you telling me,” I ask quietly, reverently, “that I’d be the first man between these gorgeous thighs of yours?”
Her nod is barely there, hesitant—but it’s enough. And the realization lights something fierce and possessive in my chest as I revel in the fact that I might be her first.
“Fuck, baby,” I growl as I flip her over, so she’s pinned beneath me.
How can this gorgeous, independent, successful woman have never had her pussy eaten before?
“You deserve to be worshiped, Sara. And I’ll get on my knees for you every day if you’ll let me.
” I pepper soft kisses along her jaw and down her neck, loving how her breath hitches when I reach the top of her breast.
Sitting back on my heels, I admire her sprawled out for me, her chest rising and falling as I take in the sight before me.
Her raven hair is fanned out beneath her like a crown, and her perky breasts are on full display in her lace top, the curve of her hourglass frame evident beneath her black jeans.
“I need you,” she pleads.
My hands caress her sides until I reach my desired destination, grabbing a handful of each breast. I knead them, my fingers rubbing circles through the lace, until she’s writhing under me.
Tugging the lace down, they spring free, and I lower myself to her left nipple, sucking and nibbling, taking note of the way her body reacts and savoring each sound she makes so I can do it again, next time.
“My top is a bodysuit,” she pants, as I swirl my tongue around the swollen bud of her nipple.
“A bodysuit? Like Iron Man?”
That earns me a chuckle. “No—there’s a set of buttons at the bottom, so I need to take off my jeans to remove it.”
“Are you offering me a strip tease, baby?”
The coy smile she gives me tells me that’s exactly what I am getting.
I move off of her, settling back into the corner of her sectional, my arms draped across the back like I have all the time in the world.
She reaches for the remote on her coffee table to turn on some music.
I track her movements as she saunters back towards me.
Something catches my eye—the sloth I got her.
Guilt over not telling her I’m the same guy that’s been flirting with her on a delivery app sinks between my ribs.
But then she unbuttons her jeans and is shimmying out of them, bending over with her ass right at my eye level and the guilt turns into want.
She pops the snaps on the bodysuit, pulls it off over her head, and saunters towards me in nothing but a red lace thong that matches the color of her painted lips.
Images of her on her knees, my hands in her hair, and those fucking red lips wrapped around my cock have me harder than a rock.
But I meant what I said, and I plan to worship her sweet pussy as long as she’ll let me.
Once she’s within reach, I pull her onto the couch, switching our positions so I can even the playing field. I stand, and she comes face-to-face with my aching cock. Her eyes are hungry as she takes me in. I make a swift move to strip down to my boxers and hastily rip my shirt over my head.
Sara eyes me hungrily. I preen under her gaze as she takes me in. Then I drop to my knees, using my shoulder to spread her legs and keep them where I want them.
I trail my lips up her legs, nipping at the soft skin of her inner thighs, building her anticipation. My hand glides over her stomach—is that a belly ring? Holy hell. This girl will be the death of me. Sara squirms, breathy little pants leaving her mouth as I get closer to her pussy.
“How much would you hate me if I ripped these off of you?” I ask, hooking my finger into the red lace.
Her mouth drops open before she tucks her bottom lip between her teeth and shakes her head. “Not at all.”
My cock throbs violently against the couch cushion, and I smirk, pressing a kiss to her covered core, before tugging the lace until it shreds. “Good answer.”
I don’t waste a moment before diving in.
“Oh my God,” she gasps when my tongue makes contact with her clit. Her fingers dig into my scalp while she grips my hair, and I relish in the slight sting.
I curl my hands over her thighs, holding her tightly against me, as I continue to lap at her slit until I feel her thighs trembling around my head.
She’s close. I start sucking harder, the taste of her on my tongue making my cock twitch in my boxers.
He’s eager to come out and play, but I can’t stop what I’m doing.
I’m dizzy with desperation, high on the idea that I’m the first man to make her come undone with just my mouth.