“I’ll always be a good boy for you.”
The burst of cold hit my nipple, and I squeaked.
His deep chuckle echoed its way down my spine. “I’ll warm you up, baby.” He dipped and latched on to my nipple, teasing and toying with his tongue, switching between his hot mouth and the cold whipped cream until I was shaking, begging.
“Kyle,” I whimpered.
He slipped the black lace over my hips and off, then slipped a hand between my thighs and slid two fingers into me.
He groaned. “You’re so ready for me, Crabby.”
With a thumb, he teased my clit, rubbing small circles around it, sending bursts of pleasure shooting up my spine.
“Yes.” I arched into him. He shifted and my eyes drifted closed. “That feels so”—a burst of cold cream hit my flesh—“cold.” I coughed the words out.
“Just wanted some whipped cream on my dessert.” He chuckled as another squirt of whipped cream hit the apex of my thighs. “Now to clean up this mess.”
He toyed, licking at the whipped cream. Teasing me before he finally flattened his tongue against me, and a moan worked its way out of my chest and echoed around us. With each swirl of his tongue, I spun closer to release, and when he sucked my clit and slid one finger inside me, then two, I moaned.
I never wanted him to stop. The throbbing built so deep inside me I was panting and shaking. My legs quivered. His tongue flicked two more times, and I broke. Pleasure rocketed through me so fast it took my breath away. He stayed with me the entire time, lapping up every last drop of pleasure. My body sagged against the bed as he slowly kissed his way up my stomach and over my chest until he pressed his lips to mine.
“Glad I’m back, baby?” He smirked and slipped his hand between my thighs again.
I groaned, my body already heated again for him. “Yes, and I need you to fuck me.”
“Your wish is my command.”
When he pulled his hand back, I groaned, but before I could complain about the loss of his touch, he hooked my leg over his hip, lined himself up, and with his lips pressed to mine, he pushed into me. He moved with slow, even strokes as his tongue mimicked the motion. Claiming all of me. We moved like that, skin to skin, using each other, our breaths mingling and our bodies sticky with whipped cream.
“Harder, baby,” I begged.
“You’re in charge.” He grasped my arms and locked them over my head. “And you are mine.” He thrust hard, poundingfast, hitting that spot that caused such a wave of pleasure to pulse through me that it was impossible for my eyes to focus. “Mine,” he gritted again. “Say it.”
“I’m yours,” I panted. “Yes.” My back bowed off the bed, thrusting toward him. “Yes, right there,” I cried.
The sound was cut off when he covered my mouth with his and swallowed the moan that left my lips.
He thrust deep, causing the echo of our bodies colliding to flood the room.
“I need you to come,” he grunted against my lips.
He shifted so he could toy and pinch my nipple until I couldn’t take it anymore. A wave of euphoria rocked through me. And when I cried his name and came in a violent explosion, he swallowed the sound.
“Fuck.” He groaned as he lost his own control, rutting into me frantically. “Fuck, Harper,” he repeated as his cock jumped and pulsed inside me. Finally he collapsed on me, and for two breaths, his weight pressed into me before he spun us.
He pulled me close and kissed the top of my head, holding me as our hearts slowed and our breathing evened out.
“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” After a quick shower, Kyle swiped his boxer briefs off the floor and stepped into them, followed by his jeans.
My stomach sank. He’d told me that he always left after sex, but stupidly, I thought he’d stay with me.
“I’m going to grab a gluten-free muffin or fruit or whatever you have, and I’ll be back.” He slipped out the door.
The sinking feeling was replaced by a chuckle. He hadn’t been kidding about eating after sex. I climbed into bed and braced for his goodbye.
But the second he was back in the room, holding two bananas, he stepped out of his jeans.
“Are you staying?”