Chapter 9 #2
Her nectar covers my tongue once I descend on her pussy, and I transform into a desperate man in a desert, mindless with thirst as I drink her down.
She tastes like honey and cream and something else tangy that makes my body tremble and my tongue push deeper inside her channel, seeking more, seeking everything.
I feel her walls clench around my tongue, and if I had my way, she’d never release me.
I could stay right here until she suffocates me to death.
“Yes, Nic,” she chants quietly, tugging on my hair to the point of pain. “Just like that.”
I suck and kiss her swollen lips as I hold her hips still, making sure every part of her pussy is worshiped before I move on to the main event––that adorable pink bud at the top.
As I wrap my lips around it, her feet buck next to my ears, and she shoves a fist into her mouth to keep from screaming.
It’s impossible not to smile as I continue to gorge myself on her.
I’m only a man, and since we’re historically bad at a lot of other things, being skilled at eating pussy feels like an honorable contribution to society.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck, Nic.” Her words are garbled at this point as she says them around a mouthful of knuckles, but as I flatten my tongue against her and begin a quick flicking motion, the only sounds I hear out of Lindsay are soft, whimpering cries.
It doesn’t take much longer for her to unravel, and I will my mind to lock this away as a core memory before her thighs squeeze my head so hard it pops off my body.
Her lower half is shaking as I haul her into my arms and drop her down on the ledge of my office window.
She wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me hard as she rubs herself against my body, driving me fucking crazy with need.
I unbutton my pants and shove them and my boxers down my thighs in a rush.
We break apart long enough for me to look between our bodies and feel oddly pleased that the ledge is the perfect height for fucking.
That wasn’t an intentional part of the design when the bar was built, but I’m inclined to send a thank-you note to the architect.
“Condoms?” she whispers.
Shit. Why didn’t I think to get condoms? Although, even if I had, I couldn’t have anticipated us having sex here. “I can’t get you pregnant,” I explain, panting. “Side effect of my medication.”
“I’m on birth control anyway. Can you still pass diseases to me?”
“That I don’t know, but I haven’t been with anyone in months. Not since I last got tested.”
“Okay, me too. I got tested last week, and I’m good.” She guides me toward her entrance, her tongue tracing her top lip as I slowly push into her. “I can’t stop thinking about the suckler.”
I stifle a laugh, trying to remain quiet. “The wait is over.”
Her heels cross at my lower back as I go deeper. It’s a tight fit, and I don’t want to hurt her, but based on the way she lifts herself to meet my thrust, it’s clear that I’m not. “More,” she begs, and a crack forms in my self-control.
“We need to go slow.”
She rolls her eyes and presses her hands against my back, closing the distance between our bodies.
I should probably remind her who’s in charge here, but her impatience is too fucking cute to address it.
“You feel so good,” I say, pressing my forehead against hers. There’s a tingling at the base of my spine, and I worry I won’t last long. “So fucking good, Linds.”
The moment I’m fully seated is also the moment the suckler attaches to her clit, and my worries fade in a flash.
She can’t stay quiet anymore, so I swallow her quivering cries with a kiss that I refuse to break until she’s come twice more. The first one unfolds like a boat climbing over a tall wave. There’s an obvious tipping point, and the fall is a long, steady ripple. The second takes longer.
“I can’t,” she murmurs against my cheek. “It’s too much.”
“You can,” I assure her. Part of me wants to ease off and let her body recover, but I have a strong hunch that she thinks she can’t come again because her exes never took the time to get her there. That’s about to change. “I know you can.”
Her grip on my shoulders is tight as she holds onto me.
I shift our bodies so the suckler can reach her clit from a slightly different angle, and within three thrusts, Lindsay’s second orgasm has her silently screaming and body bucking wildly in my arms. That’s what does me in.
I come inside her wet heat, filling her up as I pepper her face with soft kisses.
By the time my heart rate returns to normal, I’m fucking spent, but I can’t seem to let go of her, even to clean up.
It isn’t until I hear a knock on the door and Natalie’s cheery voice ask, “Dominic, do you know when you’ll have the schedule for next week ready?
” that I extract myself from her warm embrace in a panic.
“Yup, it’ll be done tonight. That okay?” I call back.
I grab the box of tissues from my desk and hand Lindsay several before taking just as many for myself.
Then I dispose of them in a small trash bag that I knot and tuck under my desk, where I’ll keep it until I can personally drop it into the dumpster out back when no one’s looking.
“Okay. Thank you,” Natalie replies.
Lindsay and I struggle to right our clothes on unsteady legs, but we help each other, exchanging knowing looks and laughs when it seems like one of us is about tip over.
When we look decent, I return to my desk and pretend to care about whatever is on my computer screen as Lindsay slips out the door.
Natalie invites Lindsay to Crust Lust for a slice when her shift ends, and I wonder if this is the last time I’ll see her before she leaves tomorrow.
I come around the bar and open my arms to give her a goodbye hug.
She wraps herself around my middle and whispers, “Coffee tomorrow morning? Meet me at the B&B at eight.”
I nod as I pull back, trying not to reveal how relieved I am, or our hushed plans. “Have fun,” is all I say before she leaves.
I’m locking up the front entrance of the bar when I’m momentarily blinded by headlights. At first, I think it’s Tilda looking for a late-night pint, or Vlad, in need of a tall glass of O negative, but it’s neither.
“Hi,” Lindsay says with a shy wave as she climbs out of her car. “In the mood for a rom-com?”
My smile is probably wide enough to show all my teeth. I don’t care. It’s her last night here until who knows when. This is not the time to play it cool. “Always.” I gesture to the door of the apartment upstairs. “Shall we?”
She narrows her gaze. “Do you secretly live here? In the most boring apartment ever?”
“No. I live in a trailer out thatta way.” I point toward the tree line, about a hundred feet away.
“The interior is equally boring, I can assure you. Besides, this is closer.” It’s not that I’m ashamed of my trailer, it’s more…
that I’m deeply ashamed of it. It’s not spacious at all, and beyond the appliances that were already installed when I bought it, I have a recliner, a TV, and queen-sized bed with a mattress that Vyla gave me when she upgraded hers.
It’s not clean, because I don’t take the time to clean it.
The apartment is clean, however, and that’s where I want Lindsay to be.
At least until I have the time to properly clean the trailer before her next visit.
We brush our teeth and put on You’ve Got Mail, but I can’t seem to follow the dialogue. The woman of my dreams is here with me, wrapped in my arms, but the only thing on my mind is how long I’ll have to wait before I get to feel this again.