Page 81 of Lace 'em Up

Rory

“Oh my God!” I groan, slamming my hands back against the shower as King buries his face between my legs and fucks my pussy with his tongue.

Sex is…

Incredible.

I’d heard about it being mind-blowing.

But…I hadn’t ever experienced it.

Not until the last twenty-four hours anyway.

From the moment that I woke up before King, watching him sleep like a total creeper, but also totally mesmerized by the way his face was softened, how his thick lashes had rested on the tops of his cheeks, his hair mussed, a lock hanging over his forehead that I wanted desperately to tuck back into place, my life had shrunk.

But not in a bad way.

Because this man had blown my mind.

Repeatedly.

Giving me so many orgasms, I actually lost count.

And yes, I’m sore.

And no, I’m not going to stop him and his delicious tongue and fingers and lips and teeth from working their magic.

Partly because I still have the taste of his orgasm on my tongue, the salty musk of him in my nose and on my taste buds.

Because he finally let me get my mouth on his cock.

And it had been glorious.

But now he’s back to being generous, working my body with the intense focus I’ve seen him display on the ice.

And with me.

And…I wonder with how many other women.

The thought lances through me, a cold bucket of water over my head, threatening to douse my desire.

King growls, withdrawing his tongue and turning his head to nip at the inside of my thigh currently resting on one of those broad shoulders. “Pay attention.” Sharp blue eyes lock onto mine and I shiver at the demanding, heated look within them.

It doesn’t matter what he did with other women.

It only matters what he’s doing with me.

“Better,” he says, flicking his tongue over the stinging flesh before turning his head again.

He sucks on my clit, and does it hard enough that I jump, that I’m not thinking about anything that isn’t his mouth on my pussy, his tongue and fingers slowly driving me insane.

Driving me into oblivion.

“King!”

My head thunks back against the glass, but I don’t feel it, not with the orgasm barreling through me, not with his mouth on me, his fingers in me. Stubble brushing along my thighs, a big palm cupping my ass, keeping me pressed against his mouth as pleasure flows through me, wave after wave after wave.

Eventually, it stops, slows to a halt, and my knees wobble, threaten to give way.

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