Page 54 of The Naughty Elf

I pull her jeans off her in two quick tugs, and her gasp has my cock stirring again already. I can go a couple of times in a night, but not straight away. It’s why I plan to get a full taste of her. Finally.

Kissing her once more, I lower myself between her knees like she’d done for me. Ginger’s eyes brighten as they go wide. I swear stars are shining in them as she looks down at me.

I spread her open with my hands, planting a kiss on her inner thigh as she sucks in a breath. My thumb drifts down to press against her core, slipping in without resistance. She’s so goddamn wet that I can see the sheen of her in the sparse light.

It’s the prettiest sight I’ve ever seen. It’s better than watching her mouth move around my shaft. But only just.

Drawing my thumb along the back wall of her sex has her whimpering.

I can’t wait any longer, diving down to suck her clit into my mouth. And there’s the moan I want—sharp and loud and full of pleasure.

Withdrawing my thumb, I cup her ass and lift her to my mouth, delving my tongue between her folds to take in her sweetness. Just like a ripe fruit, she’s juicy and ready to be eaten. I’m fucking drunk off her already.

When I find a spot that makes her breath hitch and her core tighten, I double down on it, coaxing breathy, panting moans from Ginger until her hand twists itself in my hair to keep me in place. Full hips rise, riding my face in search of her own orgasm.

I want to give it to her, but I’m nowhere near done with this sweet little pussy yet.

I’m a man starving for this kind of connection, for the feeling that pleasing her gives me.

Her moans change, shifting from needy to urgent until she’s bucking under me, but I keep her thighs in my tight grip and don’t let up, not even when her fingers tug weakly at my hair.

“Oh, God.” Her voice comes out a bit unhinged, whining. “God, Ashley. Fuck. It’s too much. It’s…”

Her words cut out as I suck her clit back into my mouth. I let my pace slow, languidly building her back up until her grip isn’t tugging me away, it’s pulling me closer.

I’m more than ready to give her orgasm number two, drunk on the taste of her.

I slide my thumb back into her, and the combination with my tongue seems to set her off. Ginger lets me hear more of her pleasure this time, vibrating with little moans that strike right through me to my cock.

I’m so hard again that I can’t believe it, but I’m in no hurry. Even as every lick and suckle of her flesh has me pulsing. Retreating a few inches to blow across her slick folds, I soak in the way her mouth falls open, and the soft cry she offers me.

I want to watch her come this time. I slide two fingers into her core and draw my tongue around her clit.

She rewards me with a low moan. Her head falls back, chest heaving, grip tight at the back of my head. My fingers angle deeper, tapping a little bundle of nerves that has her thighs twitching and trembling.

Ginger plants her hand down on the blankets beneath us, lifting herself against my mouth. The bliss on her face has me releasing my own moan against her folds.

Her head swings up, catching my gaze and freezing. That tight pussy clamps down over my fingers. I’m tempted to add a third to see how high I can get her before she falls.

I can see the moment she gives in, her eyes falling half closed, her mouth parted with the tiniest cry. Sucking on her with more force has her crying out more fully, rocking over my hand, against my mouth, until her head falls back and her shoulders heave, and she’s wetter than anything I’ve ever imagined.

Her orgasm hits her like a hammer to the gut, shooting her forward with a gust of breath that leaves her shaky and trembling in my grasp.

With a few more chaste kisses to her clit and thighs, I finally relent.

God, my cock is throbbing with the want to dive straight into more. Her light touch to my cheek diverts me, and I swoop in for a kiss.

She’s shaking, shivering, so I wrap us up together in the blankets. “You are magnificent,” I tell her.

Her laugh is tinged with tears, a bit of post-coital hysteria. But her hand spreads new heat over my chest, down my stomach to cup my hard-on.

“I don’t think we’re done.” She strokes me over my jeans. “Are we?”

“We are if you are.” Because I never want to take more than she’s willing to give me.

Ginger traces her hands up my sides, under my shirt to sink her nails into my flank. “More.”

The heat of her mouth against my ear has me twitching against my fly. Yes. I want to be inside of her again.

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