Page 85 of A Little Broken

With a squeak, I grab the shelves behind me to keep from falling, and he kisses my slit through the scrap of fabric.

“So fucking wet,” he rasps.

My eyes roll back in my head as his fingers find the edge of my underwear. He pushes them to the side, finally exposing me. I’m grateful for the darkness. The way it swallows us whole, creating a world of our own. Slowly, he kisses my center, dipping his tongue inside of me before using his lips to tease my clit. I fist his hair as my head drops back, my breathing as stilted as it was earlier. Adding a finger, he curls it inside of me, massaging my inner walls while circling the little bundle of nerves with his tongue. It feels…it feels illegal. This man’s mouth. Honestly, it isn’t fair. I bite my bottom lip to keep from begging him to let me come, my legs growing weaker and weaker with every sweep of his tongue and drag of his fingers. But it’s too strong. The build. The ride. The euphoria just out of reach. And every time I think it’s close, Paxton moves his mouth, torturing me. Dragging this out and pushing me higher and higher without ever letting me reach oblivion.

It’s…pissing me off.

Twisting my fingers in his hair, I tug, hoping the slight twinge of his scalp will convince him to stop messing around. It’s a warning. A plea. And he better believe it’s the only one he'll get in this pantry. He smiles against my core, proving me right. He’s playing with me.

Sonofabitch.

I don’t like being on this side. The other end of the yo-yo, if you will. Nope. I’m the one who teases. Who edges. Who drives the other person crazy. Honestly, I’m not sure how he reversedthe roles in the first place, but I don’t like it. Not one bit. Grinding my molars, I consider my options and how few there really are if I have any hope of walking out of here with the orgasm I most definitely need. Then, it hits me.

“You know,” I murmur. “It’s totally okay. You can stop.” I pat his head, giving him a gentletap tapI’ve used in the past when the moment was gone.

When he pulls away, he lifts his head up, and even though I can’t see him, I know he’s looking at me.

“What?” he asks.

“I said you can stop. Not every guy is good at oral. My birthday was a fluke. Don’t even worry about it. I’ll just?—”

His low chuckle cuts me off and rolls over me as he drops his chin to his chest, letting the top of his hair brush against my pubic bone. “You know, you almost had me worried?—”

“Hey, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. You did your part. Now, if you can just…give me two minutes to myself, I’ll get this taken care of, then be on my way.”

He kisses my inner thigh. “You gonna take care of yourself, Birthday Girl?”

“Seems I have to with a partner like you.”

“Is that a dare?”

“You tell me.”

Breathing in deep, he drags his teeth against the sensitive skin he just kissed, and my hips shift toward him, betraying me.

He smiles against my skin. “Count down from thirty.”

“What?”

“Thirty,” he repeats. “You stop counting, I stop eating. Go.” He grabs my leg and forces it over his shoulder, leaving my pussy bared in front of him.

“Thirty,” I say, my tone laced with boredom, though I’ve never been more on edge in my entire life. He seriously thinks allhe needs is thirty seconds to make me come? I mean, he’s good, but there’s no way he’s that?—

He blows against my clit, and my hips jerk toward him. “Twenty-nine,” he says.

“Twenty-nine,” I repeat.

His finger dips into me again.

Hooooly Hannah Montana.

“Twenty…twenty-eight,” I whisper. He adds a second finger, crooking them inside of me like before.

Shit, that feels good.

“Twenty…” I bite my bottom lip, my fingers digging into the shelves behind me as he draws a lazy kiss along my clit. “T-twenty-seven.”

Shit. Shit, I’m already close. How am I already close?

---