Page 52 of Warmer, Colder

“I think you can do better than that.” I lean forward, meeting her eye to eye.

“Please,” her gaze falls to the floor, “let me taste you.”

The lack of conviction simply won’t do. “Better, but not good enough.” I take one step back and she launches forward, hands clinging to my legs. When she looks up, the desperation consuming her irises is dangerous . . . for both of us.

“I want to,” her voice dips low, “fuck you with my tongue.”

“What else?” I bring a finger to my clit and move it in gentle circles.

“Umm…” she stutters while her attention fixes on what I’m doing.

“Spit. It. Out,” I command as I slide a finger briefly inside myself. “Or I’m going to finish myself off while I make you watch.

Becca swallows harshly and rolls her shoulders back. “I want you to soak my taste buds, so I know every subtlety of the tasteof you. I want you to fill my mouth with your release.” She clears her throat, but her gaze never strays from the movements I’m making. “I want it lingering there, between my teeth when I lay awake in bed tonight.”

“And I want to give that to you. But the thing is, watching you humble yourself kind of turns me on. You can see why I’m so tempted to draw it out.”

“Please,” Becca whimpers.

“Give me just a little more and I’ll put you out of your misery.”

“Please, please, please,” she gasps, burying her face into my thigh, inhaling deeply, like the mental exertion has impacted her as physically as it did me. Her shoulders sag as she leans into the peaceful embrace of honesty, the weight of her stubbornness finally disappearing.

“They say good things come to those who wait, why should I give you what you want just because you beg for it?”

“Because I need this.”

I don’t reward her with comfort or rest. “Was that so hard?” My vindictive fingers sink into Becca’s hair, scraping against her scalp, forcing her head back. “Go ahead, then. Claim your reward.” Parting my thighs and hiking my skirt up around my waist, I position myself over my Crybaby’s reddened lips. “Fuck me with your tongue; prove to me it’ll be worth all this trouble.” My fingers tighten a fraction, holding her just a breath shy of my cunt for just a few more torturous seconds. “Then maybe I’ll think about touching you the way you want.”

The first lick is feather-light, tickling, a tease of her own that drives me upward on my toes. I laugh; she won’t get the reactionshe wants from me.I know how to play this game.“Surely that’s not all you have to give after all that?”

Her brow furrows and her fingers dig into the dips of my hips, dimpling them further. This time, the flat surface of her tongue drags across my center purposefully.

“Good girl, look at you take direction. Keep going, just like that.” For once, I don’t get any pushback from her. Instead, she repeats it and then begins to explore my clit with disjointed circles. Despite the jerky movements, or maybe because I know it means it’s the first time she’s ever done this, I can’t hold back.

Giving in to her is like taking that breath under water, I know I shouldn’t, but I need the release. It’ll probably be the end of me. But I’m burning up from the inside, my lungs too full, I need to let some of this desire out. I flatten my feet and grind down on her face, the long roll of my hips momentarily covering her only airways with my pussy.

Becca’s fingers dig into my ass, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she plays with different motions of her tongue—flicking, licking, pressing, and teasing. She could be doing anything, and it would be driving me toward the edge. Just fucking her face like this feels like vindication for all the times I’ve yearned to have her. Now she’s sloppily licking me up like she’s never tasted anything quite this good.

“Right there. Yes, B—” I clip the word. I’m not ready to give her that. She needs to do so much more before I’m willing to moan her name. I’ll admit it requires more effort than I’d like to keep it in when she’s licking me like this. When she’s on her knees letting me ride and use her face. With my fist in her hair, I tug harshly, forcing her to look at me. “Suck my clit and make me come. Can you do that? Or do you need me to show you?” I use my fingers to spread myself, revealing my pierced clit.

Challenge sparks in her eyes and she nips at it.

“Ah fuck,” I gasp, sharp pleasure momentarily dismantling my control.

Becca does it again, this time holding it between her teeth for just a second longer. A convulsion nearly buckles my knees, but I regain control with my hand in her hair.

“Suck.” Cradling the back of her head, I resume grinding on her face, while she dutifully suctions her mouth against my clit. “Yes, right fucking there, right fucking—” No one is more surprised than me when she pulls the orgasm from me that feels like it’s been building for months. It locks every part of my body into a state of temporary shock before I sag against her, trapping her between my thighs—good thing we don’t need to breathe anymore.

Becca’s jaw moves as she attempts to go in for another lick, but I pull away and capture her face in my shaking grip. She’s breathtaking with the evidence of my orgasm on her face, her upper lip and chin gleaming in the moonlight, but it’s not quite perfect. With gentle fingers, I stroke my center gathering the lingering wetness, and drag it over her lips tenderly, like friends doing each other’s makeup. “Rub your lips together, like this.” I roll my own together as if spreading around lipstick. Without hesitation, Becca does as I say. Pleased, I tuck my fingers beneath her chin and bring our lips together. As my tongue traces the curve of her lips, she shudders and leans in—putty in my hands.

With her looking up like this, seeking approval, desperate to know she’s done a good job, I could almost do anything she asks. I don’t even care that this is nothing more than a daydream that’ll undoubtedly end when she realizes what this all means. But I’m not going to be the one to wake us from it. “Come on,” I help her to her feet then tug her toward me as I sit on the bed.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t—”

I cut her off. “I’m not. You’re going to use me to get off.” I pat my thigh.

Becca looks from my leg to my face then back again. With my hands on her hips, I make her straddle one thigh.

---