Page 51 of Brazen Mistakes

My grip on his headboard grows rigid as he experiments with his tongue, his fingers, his nose, quickly pinpointing the places that make me gasp, moan, and writhe.

And it feels good. So good.

Too good.

My orgasm sneaks up on me, barreling through me without warning, and I scream as I collapse against the headboard, RJ continuing to lap at me, prolonging the agonizing pleasure.

I go to shift away, to give as good as I got, but his fingers dig in, keeping me there.

“RJ?”

“More. Sit all the way down and let me make you feel good.”

Chapter 19

Clara

His voice is raspy, tickling my sensitive flesh, as I hesitate.

But when his tongue presses into me, I decide to trust him. I let my weight drop, rocking until we build a rhythm, grinding against the warmth of his mouth, taking the gift he’s offering me.

This orgasm builds like a storm on the horizon, the power of it obvious long before it rolls through me. Peaceful, bone-deep pleasure rumbles from my center, and tears gather at the corners of my eyes, brutal in the clarity it brings me.

Maybe it’s beautiful to feel this much for so many. Maybe I can love more than I’d dared imagine.

Panting, I pull back, eyes struggling to focus as I shimmy down the bed, hauling RJ into a lingering kiss, my release tart on his tongue and lips, a soft smile on his face.

A series of continued aftershocks ripple through me as I reach for the waistband of his pants, but he stops me.

“It’s your turn,” I say, what’s likely a drunken smile smeared across my face.

“About that. I’d, ah, I’d love to, well, you know, but, um.” His hand is searing against my face, both of us covered in a fine sheen of sweat.

“Blow jobs aren’t on the list?”

He laughs and what little muscle control I had dissipates as I revel in the timbre of his joy. “They are definitely on that list. It’s just, ah, it turns out I really liked what we just did. Really, really liked it.”

My brain takes a second to process. “Oh. Oh! Okay.”

He rolls into his pillow with a groan.

“No, no, it’s okay. It’s good. Really good. And flattering. I didn’t even know that could happen.” I burrow into the pillow with him, pressing my lips to his cheek. “Seriously. I feel like I have sex magic or something.”

He huffs against the fluff before turning to face me. “Are you sure? I’m sorry. I was really close, and when you came that second time, I just couldn’t not touch myself, and that’s all it took.”

Kissing him slowly, I try to convey exactly how amazing that confession is. “I’m seriously flattered. Are you sure you haven’t done this before?”

“I definitely would have remembered.” He bundles me against his chest as I laugh.

“I was nervous, too,” I say. “I was so scared I’d squish you, or suffocate you or something.”

“Never. And if you did, I’d have died a happy man.”

“No dying on me. Even during sex.”

“Le petit mort.” He waits to see if I understand, but while the phrase is familiar, the meaning’s not coming to my sex-drunk brain. “The little death. A synonym for orgasm.”

“Is that what they teach you in French class? I might have chosen the wrong second language.”

---