Page 77 of Royally Drawn

She bit her lip and nervously played with her hair, further drawing this out. I couldn’t wait any longer. Playing cat and mouse was only fun for a minute. I was not only impatient but also aware that the clock was ticking. Desperate to move it along, I pulled her up.

“Hold onto the headboard and sit on my face,” I said—not asking but telling.

“I… I cannot. Won’t it like… kill you?”

I snickered and smacked her tight little arse, “No. Try it. I want to taste you. I want you to make an absolute mess on my face. Just drown me, Ingrid.”

Like the obedient girl she occasionally was, she followed orders. I would have liked to look up at her, but her skirt was in the way. Still, the fact that I couldn’t see her only heightened the moment. I’d never climbed under a woman’s dress to go down on her. It was naughty. I didn’t need to see her to read her satisfaction.

As I licked and sucked, my tongue tracing around her clit and entrance, she moaned. Her pussy ground against me in a beautiful, slow, hot rhythm. I heard her breathe quicken—faster and faster. I imagined the flush creeping up her breasts to her face and her fingers digging into the headboard. She grew wetter and wetter, impossibly warm and slick. The evidence of her pleasure dripped down my chin.

She ground faster and harder against my tongue as she came closerand closer to her climax. She was whimpering now, pleading with some force in French to end the torture of waiting. Her cries to the universe always drove me mad. She had the most beautiful voice when she was in the throes of ecstasy.

“Oh God, just… I want to… please, please,” she cried. “It feels too good! Don’t stop!”

I wouldn’t. Not now.

In English, she gasped, “Oh God, Keir, I’m… I’m cumming!”

She squealed unintelligibly and braced through her orgasm.

Sweet satisfaction.

There was little as good as getting this woman off. I couldn’t explain why. I wasn’t a selfish lover. I prided myself on satisfying any woman I fell into bed with. Still, this was different. Maybe it was the surprise of it or her sheer gratitude? Perhaps it was because she went from innocent to deviant with a flick of my tongue? I didn’t quite know.

Ingrid descended, sitting on the bed beside me, assembling herself. Still catching her breath, still flushed, she was beautiful.

“You’re amazing but badly behaved, Keir.”

“You’re the one who just fucked my face until completion,” I said.

The Bad Girl

INGRID

“You must be miserable,” I said, running my hand up and down the length of Keir’s stiff cock.

He’d just brought me to the moon and back. The least I could do was satisfy him, right? I loved playing the bad girl. I looked at his cock, simultaneously soft in the feel against my hand and hard in its excitement for more. I could get used to this.

“You’re not… you don’t have to… getting you off was enough. That’s what I wanted.”

“Well, I want to getyouoff.”

“Ingrid, we cannot make a mess and?—”

I didn’t listen. Instead, I ducked down, running the tip of my tongue over the head of his cock. I looked up at him.

With a husky voice, he said, “Well, if you’re going to do that, I won’t stop you.”

I took him in my mouth—not delicately this time. Remembering how he liked his cock to be held, I pumped the shaft.

“Oh, fuck, Ingrid. You are so, so much better at that than you have any business being!”

“I know,” I murmured, his cock still in my mouth.

“Fuck, fuck,” he said. “I really won’t last. You got me so…”

He growled, “Ingrid, if you want to stop, then?—”

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