Chapter 11
Chapter
Eleven
Riley
Why did I come here again? Oh, right, to give Rowdy the bad news.
Instead, this man is between my thighs.
My underwear is rolled down to my knees, and I haven’t even taken off my socks.
His mouth is on me, and oh my god, if I thought I was rattled by intense pleasure yesterday, this is a whole other level of amazing.
Rowdy splits open my folds with his tongue, ravaging me. Feasting on every bit of me. I don’t even have a moment to feel self-conscious about it. If I’d ever anticipated that this would happen, I would’ve, I don’t know, showered? For a start. Oh god, did I sweat today? Do I care?
The licks grow more intense, and his wicked tongue makes contact with my clit. I thread my fingers into his tousled hair and whimper in my need.
The sound that comes from him is something between a growl and a snarl. “That’s it. That’s my girl. That’s my woman’s perfect pussy.” His words are half audible and half muffled because he’s so excited to just keep going and going. Licking. Devouring. Teasing. Sucking. And, oh god, the slurping.
The sensation is almost too much. I curl my fingers where they’re locked against his skull. At one point, he scrapes his teeth ever so softly against my aching clit.
I come apart, shouting his name, and my body bucks under the intensity of it.
I look down, and for the first time, I notice Rowdy gripping his cock. It’s fully out of his boxer briefs. He wipes my essence from his face and uses it as lube to pump himself.
I watch, mystified and fascinated as he brings himself to the edge. His eyes are dark and almost drunk, but I know that he’s not. He feasted on me, stone cold sober, and made me come harder than I’ve ever come in my life.
He catches his breath and resumes working me over with his mouth while beating himself off.
As an artist, as a human, I memorize every moment. Lying here looking down, watching him do what he’s doing to me, what he’s doing to himself. I know now the thing I want to paint. I want to paint exactly this moment. I want to communicate in color and strokes exactly how this makes me feel.
I don’t give a fuck about the cute little birds of the pretty sunsets anymore. I want to fucking paint the feeling of getting your world rocked by Rowdy’s tongue.