Page 69 of Make Me Want it Too

He sucks and tugs on my clit again, and I cry out. He stays there, playing me with the tip of his tongue, faster than before but with the perfect amount of pressure. Then sucking. Licking.

“I’m close,” I manage to pant out. “Wood?—”

Wood. Wood is about to make me come.

There, right there, he stays steady on my clit. I try to buck and twist my hips away from the overwhelming sensation, but he holds me down, never letting up.

There’s fire under my skin. Pressure building. Mind numbing. And then it bursts like water spilling over a dam. Suddenly and all at once, hard, crashing against every surface.

For a minute everything goes blank as the waves move through me. Flowing lusciously out to my toes and fingers. Licking their way up my chest and neck, filling my head with swirling visions of gold.

He’s still licking and kissing between my legs when the waters subside, being so soft and gentle, looking up at me with his blue eyes, massaging my hips and butt as I come down from the strongest orgasm I’ve ever experienced.

I’ve soaked the sheet under me, my thighs are slick, and Wood’s face is glistening with me as he cleans me up with his tongue. Is he humming?

Suddenly I want to close my legs and scoot away and cover my face and never let either of us speak a word about this ever again.

“You okay? he asks.

“Mm-hmm.” I nod and sit up, pulling my shirt down.

Should I thank him, or—? I’m not sure of the protocol here.

“You’re not getting shy on me now, are you?”

“No.” Yes.

He sits up, too. My eyes drop to his crotch. I can’t help it. He’s somehow even bigger and more erect than earlier. The ridge of the head protruding against his sweats, a dark, small wet spot seeping into the fabric at the tip.

I don’t realize I’m staring until he adjusts himself and says, “Yeah, I’m leaking a little. If you had lasted a few more minutes, I don’t know if I would have.”

I swallow, the thought of Wood coming in his sweats makes the overheated skin between my thighs start to tingle again.

“I’ll make sure to grab a towel next time,” he says.

I follow his gaze to where he’s looking down between us at the wet sheets.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

He snaps his head up. “For what? For being perfect? For coming all over my face exactly how I wanted you to?” He leans forward, almost like he’s going to crawl up my body, or pounce on me. “For making the perfect noises the whole time? For having the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen? For tasting better than I’d even imagined possible?”

“Oh,” is all I can muster to breathe out.

He’s closer. He tilts his head as he smirks. “I can’t wait to do it again.”

Then he pushes off the bed. With his back to me, he gets something out of his bag and then promptly drops his sweats and boxers down to the floor.

“Are you looking at my ass?” he asks, laughter in his voice.

“No.” Yes.

How does a butt look this good? Like it’s all muscle? Like it’s a statue carved meticulously out of marble you’d see in a museum rather than on a real, live human. I didn’t know such things existed.

“Disappointing.” He chuckles.

He pulls a new pair of black boxer briefs up. Even through the fabric, his behind looks like a masterpiece. He turns, too quickly, and catches me ogling his lower bits—I know he did—because he winks at me as he goes into the bathroom.

I throw myself back on the pillows, pulling the covers up over my face. He can’t wait to do it again. I don’t know what I’m feeling right now. I don’t know what I’m supposed to be feeling right now.

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