Page 9 of Flexible Standards

Sam grazes his teeth against my clit before pulling the covers down around his shoulders. He kisses my stomach and growls, “Never apologize.”

“Sorry,” I wince. “I mean… thank you?”

“Better.” His lips still pressed to my stomach, he laughs. “Fuck, you’re adorable.”

“Adorable? That’s not exactly a compli—” The covers are thrown back over his head, and in an instant, his mouth is on my clit as he drives two fingers inside me. “Sam!”

His muffled chuckles only intensify his delicious torture. I grip the sheets as I lean into him, my head pushing further into the pillow. He curls his fingers, pressing them further. I’m already close, if he keeps doing exactly what he’s doing, this may be the first time I’ve come from a man going down on me… ever. Teetering on the edge, I’m moments from falling apart when he sucks hard on my clit, making me cry out. My whole body feels as if it’s on fire, my vision blurring as my pussy clenches around his fingers. He doesn’t let up as the most intense orgasm I’ve had in my life washes over me. I’m beginning to wonder if I’ve ever had an actual orgasm before, even by myself—it’s never been like this.

I unclench my fists from the sheets and cover my eyes with one of my arms. “Oh, fuck,” the only words that pass my lips as I steady my breath.

Sam slows his pace, pressing a single kiss to my clit before asking, “When was the last time you were properly fucked?”

“I, um, I don’t know.” After tonight, I honestly don’t know if I ever have been.

“The next time you answer that question, I want you to think of my cock buried inside you or my face between your legs.” Keeping his fingers inside me, he kisses up my body until he reaches my lips, pulling my arm from my face. Admittedly, my kisses are lazy, I feel drunk even though I’ve only had one gin and tonic in the last few hours. “You need to rest, angel.” He sits back, pulling his fingers from me and bringing them to his lips, sucking them clean; I already miss him touching me. Sitting back on his heels, he takes off his shirt. “After I make you come again.”

sam

. . .

Iwake up to Isla’s cheek on my chest and her leg slung over me. Glancing over at the clock, it’s not even three. After making her come for a second time, she was fucking spent; a sense of pride filling me that she couldn’t take more—even if my cock hates me. The whole night feels unreal, and I’m afraid if I go back to sleep, I’ll wake up again, and she’ll be gone. I don’t want to be a one-night stand. Not with her.

I slide out of bed and put on my boxers, padding off to the kitchen for a glass of water. I swear I can still feel her cunt clenching around my fingers, the taste of her on my tongue.

She’s local, she won’t be leaving after the weekend…

I want more from this enchanting woman, but I’m unsure how the fuck to keep her.

After I have a quick drink of water, I quietly close the bedroom door and stealthily walk back to the living room. I don’t want to start a new chapter in my book or watch the telly, so I pick up my guitar perched in the corner and sit on the edge of the sofa. After tuning the A and G strings, I check a couple of chords with a few strums.

Closing my eyes, I begin playing a song I know by heart, quietly enough that I won’t wake Isla. The strings beneath my fingers, and the vibration of the wood against my leg—I’m lost in the song when a delicate hand on my thigh startles me. My eyes fly open, finding Isla sitting at my feet in one of my shirts.

“Sorry if I woke you.”

“You didn’t,” she insists. “Don’t stop on my account.” Elbow on the couch, she rests her head in her hand. “Keep going.”

A small smirk briefly dances on my lips, and I continue playing, my eyes never leaving hers. When the song ends, I rest on my arm across the guitar and ask, “What time do you have work in the morning?”

“Eight, but I’m off early.” Her tone is hopeful, but not as hopeful as I am that she’ll go out with me tomorrow after the show. “What about you?”

“I need to be at work around twelve for safety checks.” Her face falls, so I quickly add, “Have dinner with me?”

“Oh, I have to spend time with the girls,” she says softly, almost disappointed as she removes the guitar from my lap. I can’t tell if she wants to come or if she’s brushing me off. “Then a show.”

“After the show then?” The question has her chewing her lip. “I’m not asking for you to run off to the chapel down the street. It’s just dinner,” I tease, hoping to make light of it. Isla moves between my legs and slips her fingers into my boxers. “What are you up to, angel?”

“Nothing,” she chuckles, attempting to pull them down. “But you could help a girl out.”

I lift my arse, and she tugs them down the rest of the way. Her gaze burning into me, she licks from my balls, up my shaft, and swirls her tongue around the tip. With neither of us stabilizing my already-hard cock, it springs into action like a fucking jack-in-the-box, hitting her in the cheek.

“Oh, fuck, I’m so sorry!” I scramble to sit up and cup her cheeks, brushing my thumbs against them. I’m not sure if I’ve ever been more embarrassed in my fucking life.

Isla covers my hands with hers and bursts out in a fit of laughter, sitting back on her heels. “No wonder he ran off with Stephanie.”

My face falls, brows pinched. “What?”

She rests her hands on my thighs and, still laughing, replies, “Don’t worry about it. Just explains a lot.” I glare at her expectantly, and she rolls her eyes at me. “Really, it’s nothing. Short version: my ex-husband left me for his secretary. Likely because I’m terrible in bed. Cock in the face is a perfect example.”

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