Page 134 of Play Along

“So much. I need you to help me.”

“I will.”

Isaiah slides down the couch, hooking his forearms under my legs and using his fingers to separate me. The pads of his thumbs sweep up my center, and our matching moans echo off the bathroom walls.

“I should’ve known,” he says, licking a path down my inner thigh, cleaning up my previous mess, “that your pussy would be as perfect as the rest of you.”

“Did you ever think about it before tonight?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” His hooded eyes bounce up to mine as he licks another path on the opposite leg. “Countless times, Kenny. I thought about how you’d taste.” His tongue darts out to clean up his lower lip. “Fucking heavenly, by the way. I thought about the way you’d squirm under me. I thought about the way you’d grip my fingers and one day, maybe my cock. I thought about it all. But my imagination wasn’t nearly as good as the real thing.”

He licks a line up the center of my pussy, eyes locked on mine when my back bows off the couch. He hums against my core, sending a wicked vibration up my entire body.

“I want to be so good for you.”

I nod quickly. “You always are.”

“Has anyone ever done this to you?”

“Yes. A few times.”

His eyes flash with annoyance. “Did you come?”

“No. You’re the only person who’s ever made me come besides myself.”

He places a soft kiss on my clit. “Do you touch yourself, Kenny?”

“Sometimes.”

“Good.” He licks me in one long, languid stroke. “Show me.”

“What?”

“You want to learn, but so do I. Teach me how you like to be touched.”

Isaiah gently takes my hand in his, guiding it down my body, over my bunched dress and between my legs.

“Teach me.”

His breaths are labored, his exposed chest expanding and contracting at a quickening pace, but his breathing entirely stops when I glide my fingers down, running the pad of my middle one over my clit.

“Fuck.” It’s silent, as if he forgot to use his voice.

“I start like this.” My hips follow my fingers. “Then I do small circles.”

“Like this?” he asks when he takes my fingers away and bends, his tongue mirroring my movements, circling over my clit in a rhythmic pattern.

“Oh,” I moan. “Yeah, just like that.”

“What else?” He replaces my fingers as he pulls back to watch, his lips glistening with my arousal, and that image alone almost sends me over the edge.

“This.” Up and down, up and down in short fluid motions.

He holds my hand out of the way, using his tongue to match my fingers.

But it feels infinitely better. He takes his time, licking me with pressure, and I can’t help but chase his mouth with my hips as they lift from the couch, looking for more.

He moans. He fucking moans from tasting me.

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