“I’ve been waiting for this,” he whispers, his mouth landing on my breast.
He flicks his tongue against my nipple, drawing it to a tight bud. I gasp as he sucks it between his teeth, his hand kneading my other breast with skilled precision. Another gasp catches in my throat as he lifts his head, puffing out a chilled breath over my slickened nipple. I lurch in response, goose bumps dotting my skin.
Chuckling, Brock gazes down at me. “You like that?”
“Yes,” I say breathily.
He smirks, and moves down my body, his tongue leaving a trail of moisture along its path. Anywhere he can mark, he does. He sucks the hollow of my neck, ribs, the curve of my waist, stopping to dip his tongue inside my belly button.
Another lurch, another chuckle.
“Ticklish?” he asks, his brow drawn up.
“Yes, very, but please—”
“Don’t worry, I’m not down here to make you laugh.” His smirk is back. “I’ll leave that for the spooning and pillow talk.”
A sigh of relief leaves me, but it’s quickly replaced by a sharp intake of air as Brock sweeps my legs over his shoulders. Positioned on his elbows—centered between my thighs—he gives me one last hungry look before he teases his tongue against my clit.
I tense, and my hands fly to Brock’s head, grasping his hair as he sucks the swollen hood into his mouth with a deep groan. Each controlled flick of his tongue sinks me further into both bliss and confusion. I can’t remember ever being touched like this. I’ve had my share of guys go down on me, but none basked in it the way he does. He’s literally tongue-fucking my pussy senseless, cataloging its texture, taste, savoring it as though it’s his last meal. In and out, out and in, slow strokes, fast strokes, each delicious movement carried out with his sharp gaze pinned on mine.
“Oh my God,” I moan, pinching my nipples. Chest heaving, I stare at him, every sense drowning in the here and now. The glorious stinging build between my legs, combined with the rapture of his fingers, sends me into a storm of sensations, a furious need to be fucked overtaking my thoughts. “God, yes, keep going, Brock. Don’t you dare stop.”
Brock groans and slides his hands under my ass, pulling me flush against his face. “Your pussy tastes too good to stop.” He strokes a finger through my folds, exploring the edges of my nub. “It’s all the right flavors. Tart.” He lowers his head, tonguing the delicate slice of skin below my warmth. “Tangy.” He draws my clit into his mouth before releasing it with a pop. “Sweet.” He slides two adept fingers inside me, hooking and circling my G-spot. “Pure, fucking, edible, delicious pussy.”
I crash, coming apart like a rickety house in a raging storm. Heels digging into his back, my muscles rock, hot ribbons of orgasm exploding through my body.
Holding me snug to his face, Brock laps at my clit, through my center, and down the crack of my ass, sucking me dry like he promised. “That’s right,” he snarls, gripping me tighter, “give me everything this pussy’s got.”
Unable to handle the second orgasm I feel coming on, I throw my shaky legs off his back, and sit up, my breath a choppy disaster. “That’s en-enough,” I stammer, pressing a trembling hand against the skull tattoo on his shoulder. “Please. I’m good. No—no more.”
Brock stays quiet for a long moment before he gets to his knees, his hands finding purchase on my waist as a grin moves across his face. “Did you just beg me to . . . stop?”
His mouth claims mine in a slow, passionate kiss, preventing me from answering. God, I’m all over him. My taste, scent, moisture, my very essence combined with his dizzies me, suffocating each rushed breath I take. I go limp, my fingers digging into his scalp as he guides me back against the mountain of pillows. Stuck in a sweet daze, I faintly register the sound of him opening a condom wrapper. Before I know it, he’s propped on his elbows, hovering above me, his strong hands cradling my head.
“I’ve never had a girl ask me to stop,” he whispers, a soft smile twisting his mouth. “You’re my first.” Lowering his lips to my temple, he swipes my right leg to the side with his knee. “They usually insist I keep going.” His knee attacks my left leg, repeating the process. “It’s all good. I’ll get you there.”
Spread wide open beneath him, the ache at the center of my thighs intensifies as he skirts his lips down my jaw, the base of my throat, and back up to my mouth.
“Are you ready for me to fuck you, Ber?” He teases the tip of his cock against my pussy, drawing a shudder from my body as he sweeps his tongue through my mouth. “Or are you going to beg me to . . . stop?”
Everything fades, even the passage of time. I’m lost. Lost in my surroundings. Lost in him. The low timbre of his voice. The sensual promise in his eyes. The musky smell of myself on his lips.
He pulls back a fraction, his gaze roaming my face. “Because that’s what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna fuck you. I’m gonna fuck you in ways you’ve never been fucked. Ever. I know you think you’ve been taken care of, but you haven’t. Not the way I’m about to.” He licks his lips, and barely pushes inside me, a low groan rumbling from his throat as a moan leaves mine. “But after I fuck you, you’re mine and mine only. No one else’s.” He cocks his head and stares at me, the look in his glazed eyes unreadable. “That means you’re no longer allowed to kiss my friends . . . in their cars . . . after they’ve treated you to lunch unless I give either of you permission to do so.”