Page 65 of Swinging for the Deep End

I groan louder, chasing away all those thoughts, silencing all the voices in my head.

Cutter is no longer massaging my clit with his tongue. Oh, no. He’s upgraded this experience…

How do I explain it…?

Cutter is making out with my clit.

That’s the best way to describe it.

Yes.

He’s loving my clit.

He’s treating it as though he hasn’t had water in three weeks and my clit is some special button that will offer water if he… hits the right… spot…

I throw my left hand back on the counter.

My right hand digs at the back of Cutter’s head.

“Right there!” I cry out. “Oh, fuck, Cutter!”

Oh, it’s happening… and it’s happening really soon…

He’s got me at the edge.

Three or four licks away from getting me to the end.

The light at the end of the tunnel is shining brighter and brighter by the second.

Oh… fuck… yes…

I suck in a breath.

And I hear my front door open and shut.

I gasp and quickly push at Cutter’s shoulders.

His mouth literally pops away from my pussy.

Pops!

It’s so fucking hot and now the moment is all messed up.

Because someone is in my house!

I look down at Cutter, flustered. “I think it’s the serial killer.”

“The what?” Cutter asks.

I can’t help but notice the way his lips glisten like he’s wearing lip gloss.

Nope. He’s just soaked with my wetness.

“I think someone’s been following me,” I confess. “I think they broke in.”

Cutter’s eyes open wide.

“Piper? Piper Maple? Where are you?”

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