11 #2
Like saying the words had also similarly affected him, something changed in Uzezi’s expression, in his dark, hungry gaze.
He cupped both my bare ass cheeks in his hands and leaned forward to place a kiss on the smooth, soft exposed flesh at the apex of my thighs, inhaling deeply as he did. “Goddamn, Ofure.”
“Uzezi,” I moaned, squirming. “I want—are you going to—”
“I’m going to give you exactly what you want, Fure, baby,” he growled, gripping the back of my right thigh and lifting until he had my leg thrown over his shoulder, finally baring my pussy to his gaze. “God,” he panted, staring hungrily. “Shit.”
The cool air on my exposed pussy and between my thighs gave me an idea of just how wet I was. He used his left hand to hold my right thigh up, his right going straight between my legs, thumb unerringly finding the swollen, needy bud of my clit.
I cried out, my hips jerking forward. My right hand landed on his head, fisting the thick curls of his afro, my left holding the hem of my dress to my chest for what felt like dear life.
“That the right spot?” he asked huskily, his thumb beginning to stroke, all that wetness heightening the sensation, making my eyes want to roll back into my skull.
My head thunked against the door. I couldn’t speak, my hips rocking into his touch, every inch of me focused on the teasing pressure between my legs. He was stroking slowly, lightly, his thumb moving back and forth across my clit, his caresses unknowingly teasing.
“Does that feel good?” he prodded hoarsely. “You have to tell me exactly what you want, Ofure. Tell me how to please you.”
“Oh my God,” I whimpered, my lower belly clenching up hot and tight. I reminded myself once more that this was my best friend; if I wanted something, all I had to do was ask, and I knew he’d do his best to give it to me. At that, I finally let go of the rest of my inhibitions.
“Circles,” I pleaded, trying not to claw at his scalp.
He adjusted, rolling my clit underneath his thumb. “Like that?”
“Fuck. Yes.” Both his immediate acquiescence and his checking in made my lower belly clench, my pussy growing even wetter. “Oh God, Uzi. Just like that.” He groaned in response, like my words were an aphrodisiac.
I whined, forcefully stilling my hips so I could focus entirely on his touch. Resisting the urge to move amplified the pleasure his strokes wrought until my thighs were trembling.
“A-A little harder.”
He increased the pressure, circling firmly. “Like that?”
“Yes, yes, just like that. That feels so good. Don’t stop.
” He made another hoarse noise. My eyes were beginning to tear up, every inch of me going tense in preparation.
My hips were pushing into his hand despite myself, into his face—my right heel digging into his back, nails into his scalp. “Oh God. Oh fuck.”
“Yeah?” he encouraged, the word more breath than sound.
“It feels so fucking good, Uzi.” I was lifting onto the toes of my left foot, straining hard toward the precipice; it was so close I could taste it. “Uzi, I’m gonna come.”
“God.”
“No, no, don’t speed up, don’t speed up—”
He made a noise. Harsh. Frantic. Slowed down again. “Like that?”
“Just like that, just like that, oh my God, yes, yes, yes, yes, keep going, don’t stop, don’t you fucking stop—” I clenched my eyes shut, tears of pleasure spilling down my cheeks.
He made another harsh, frantic noise. “Goddamn. Fuck. Come on. I want it so fucking bad. Give it to me, Fure, baby.”
I came with a loud cry. He stroked over my clit relentlessly until I was almost hunching in on myself, sobbing with it, my hips jerking wildly.
“God.” He buried his face in my thigh, gasping open-mouthed and wet into my skin, like he was the one experiencing my pleasure.
“Don’t stop,” I begged, even though my thighs were beginning to shake uncontrollably. “Don’t stop, don’t stop—I’m—I’m—”
“Again?” he asked, his voice low and desperate, his thumb stroking almost harshly, diligently maintaining that same rhythm. My mouth fell slack, my entire body jerking violently as I came again, gushing hot and wet onto his hand. “Jesus fuck. God-fucking-damn.”
I pushed his hand away when I felt too sensitive, still shaking from the back-to-back orgasms. I’d had consecutive releases like these before, but they had never been this intense, so intense that even as sensitive as I was—the air itself felt like too much on my throbbing clit—I still felt like I could go again immediately.
He waited until my legs had stopped trembling, then kissed the inside of the thigh still resting on his shoulder, then my mound. Then, like he couldn’t help it, he began mouthing at my pussy, groaning as his tongue flicked out to steal a taste.
My hips bucked, and I keened at the lingering oversensitivity.
“Sorry, fuck, sorry.” He pulled back, breathing hard.
He stared at my pussy, looking dazed, almost drunk.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Ofure.” He swallowed, then those dark eyes flickered up to meet mine.
The only word to describe the look in his eyes was ravenous.
“Do you think you can come again? I really want to feel you come on my mouth.”
“Uzi,” I complained, even as my greedy clit throbbed.
He smirked. “That’s not a no.”
I laughed breathlessly, helplessly. “No, I guess it’s not.”