Page 33 of Overstaying His Welcome

I groaned, knowing exactly what he was going to do next. My man was the picture-perfect political candidate in front of everyone else, but an absolute sex god in bed.

Sure enough, when he rose to look at me, his eyes were full of mischief. He opened his mouth while maintaining eye contact. I held off looking for as long as I could, but my curiosity got the better of me.

I already knew what I’d find.

Still, when I saw my release seated on his tongue, I groaned. My cock tried to rally again. It wouldn’t be long before I was hard again. Definitely within the timeframe we had left to wait for the food to finish.

Chance swallowed my cum, then licked his lips for good measure. “Mmmm. Delicious as always,” he murmured. “But I’m still hungry.”

He didn’t have to tell me what to do next. I leaned back against the counter, thankful for my shirt blocking out the cold marble. He tapped my knees, urging me to bring them up.

With my body fully open to him, he could continue his quest to torment — I mean, tease — me. Though was it really teasing when I got to come?

Maybe playing was a better term.

Because he was indeed playing. If he wanted to give me everything, he’d get the lube out and fuck me. But I knew that wouldn’t happen before the meal. His mood told me as much.

I felt his hands trail down the backs of my thighs. Then his fingers were digging into that space where ass met thigh. He spread me open, lifting my balls out of the way and giving space for him to see all of me.

“Such a pretty hole you have here. I’m going to consider it my appetizer, ok, baby.”

It wasn’t a question. And I didn’t need to give him an answer.

Not that it would have mattered.

Seconds later, his face was buried against my skin as his tongue lapped against my hole. He rimmed me as if he truly were tasting me for the first time. It was as if he needed to memorizethe feel of me, to savor every piece and part because he might never get to again.

“Chance!” I shouted when his tongue speared inside me. The sound was laced in pleasure. The utmost pleasure.

Fuck. He was trying to kill me.

Death by rimming.

I’d want that at the top of the headstone. I nearly laughed at the notion. It would be something to be remembered for, that was a certainty.

Before I could sink into deeper thoughts about the humor around sexual deaths, I felt his finger pressing into me. I tensed for a second, only to relax immediately after.

“That’s it,” he said, his voice all deep and sultry. “Open up for me. I think I need to have you before dinner. I can’t wait this time.”

I shivered at the need in his tone. He was saying everything I felt. Why hadn’t I spoken it sooner?

Oh yeah.

Maybe because he was sucking my soul out of my body and then eating my ass like it was a buffet. Admittedly, I did have a delectable backside that more than deserved the attention he gave it.

But still.

I couldn’t be held responsible for my lack of vocalization. What I could do is make up for it.

“Please, Chance. I need you. Fuck me. Give me that fat cock.”

He froze then, fingers nestled deep in my ass, tongue against my balls. I wiggled, wanting more of him, but he wasn’t having it.

His head lifted enough for me to see his gaze. Heat flared in his blown pupils.

“You want to get fucked, baby? Is that what you need?”

Nodding seemed too difficult. Words were even worse.

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