Page 103 of Sugar Baby Mine

He doubles down, fingers digging harder into my legs and his tongue swiping over me over and over and over until the sweat beads on my forehead and drool spills over my parted lips.

A hiccup leaves my throat as I crest with one slow roll of my hips, my thighs and arms shaking as my body seizes up, my head snapping back with my eyes rolling toward the sky.

It’s a technicolor of oranges, pinks, and reds with the flash of white as my vision blanks out and pleasure rushes through me.

“You taste so fucking good. Gimme more,” he commands, the rumble trailing through my limbs. I feel the rough slide of his tongue, his hot breath, the slick hair of his beard. It’s a sensory overload I’m not sure I can take in this moment.

Then his fingers are in the mix.

I jostle in his hold as he works his arm loose and between my legs, his fingers joining the slip and slide of his tongue, pressing into me. It feels so fucking good that I don’t realize I’m even holding my breath until my lungs start to burn.

My hips jerk, rocking against the motion of Ben’s tongue as he sucks on my clit while his fingers press deep inside my pussy. It all feels never-ending. His teeth graze the nerves, making sparks flicker and pop, and everything doubles back for a second wave.

It makes me so fucking dizzy, and I choke on my breath.

There’s this immense pressure in my center, my pussy fluttering and my hips rocking as my clit spasms, and I’m—I just—everything lets loose all at once. My bones feel like Jell-O even as my toes curl with spine tingling pleasure.

“Oh my—Ben,” I groan as my body flinches both away and toward him. “Red, red,red. I can’t.”

He stops immediately, hands loosening from my thighs and lifting me from his mouth. My eyes squeeze shut, and I can tell he helps me to shift away onto my back with the cool sand beneath my head and shoulders.

“Emmeline.”

Everything starts to settle, like the dust after a storm, but my blood is still pounding in my ears. I pick out all the things I can feel.

Cool sand. Faint breeze. Warmth of his body. Soft cotton. It’s all there, all the same as it was before.

“Emmeline.”

I know he’s calling my name, I can feel the way his hands drift up my arms, the tentative way he touches me since he does nothave my permission. But I want to give it to him.

“Emmeline,” he says again, and I finally open my eyes to blink up at him.

His mouth is turned down in a frown, but my eyes are drawn to his beard and neck; even his shirt is wet from my orgasm, and I’m so flabbergasted.

“Oh my God, did I fucking drown you?”

Despite the concern showing in gaze, he chuckles and slides his hand over his beard and chin, his palm is wet when he pulls it away.

“No, clearly you didn’t drown me.”

“Seems like Itriedto—”

“No, it seems like you squirted for me.”

My face burns, and I turn away.

His wet fingers grasp my chin and pull me back until I’m looking at him.

“Was it too much?”

“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “One orgasm rolled into another, but clearly it was different—which was fine, great actually, but then it was like I was so sensitive I was going to crawl out of my skin.”

He brushes a wisp of my bangs out my eyes, his palm landing in the sand by my head. I reach out to grasp the collar of his shirt and pull him in until he’s pressing his weight overtop of me.

“Are you okay with me touching you?”

“Yeah,” I breathe, “I always want you to touch me. It was just a lot in the moment.”

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