Page 39 of Masks and Mishaps

My entire body has already started to tingle.

“You’re soaked,” he murmurs before slipping his tongue into me, making my back arch. “Did I do that to you? Did I make your cunt think it was going to get stuffed and filled again?” Then he sucks unforgivingly, making me gasp. Already, my body is vibrating with the decadence of pleasure. I’ve had plenty of mouths on my pussy before, but Dalton isn’t just touching it, licking it, sucking it—he’sfeastingon it.

“Wow,” I groan. “How are you so good at that?”

“Having a big dick means not everyone can take me,” he replies, briefly replacing his mouth with his hands. “I don’t force it—not my kink. I’ve learned alternatives for when I don’t fit.”

The implication is clear: Hepracticed.

Dalton’s mouth returns to my clit and sucks extravagantly. I’m teetering on the fringes of a euphoria I haven’t felt in ages, and the desperation to go over the edge swells in me. I find myself spreading my legs and hiking up my oversized shirt to bare more of my body to him—to show off my heaving, exposed tits and my pearled nipples.

And Dalton wasn’t lying; the man knows how to eat a cunt.

It’s not just the mechanics—his intuitive understanding of where to touch and what to tease and how to time it. It’s also his sheer admiration: the appreciation when he pulls back and looks down at my hole. “When you watch this later, you’re going to see how drenched you were for me. You’re going to know why your bedspread is damp where your pussy touched it.”

“Don’t stop,” I find myself murmuring while I grip one of my breasts, tugging at my swollen, puffy nipple and working the point to the edge of pain.

Going faster now, Dalton gently bites my lips—one side and then the other—before his tongue brings me closer to elevation. “Plump lips. Suckable. Love that,” he grits. “And so insanely horny. I always knew you’d feed me this pussy if I asked.”

The filthiness of his words has me surging and billowing, forcing my pussy toward his face. “I’m almost there,” I nearly whine. “Please.Please.”

His fingers—three of them—plunge in and out of me, filling my dorm room with the crude and filthy squelch of my arousal. “Clench, baby. You see how your pussy weeps around my hand? See how it coats me? You could take me up to the wrist. I bet I could fit my whole hand in this tiny fucking thing.”

“Try,” I blurt out, not even thinking about what it would be like to take Dalton’s fist—if I even could.

“Don’t worry,” he responds, breathless but with a hint of a laugh. “Your holes are going to know me so damn well.” He pulls back and pushes four of his thick fingers into me—fuck. “Can you squirt, baby?”

I inhale sharply at the mere mention of the word, but trying to squirt is a long-standing exercise in futility. Somehow, I find the wherewithal to shake my head.

“Perfect,” he replies, cockiness practically dripping from his words. “Have you ever tried?”

I nod.

“How hard did you try?” he asks before he hooks his fingers, making me cry out. “Who was taking care of you?”

“I can’t do it,” I maintain, gasping when he pressesthat spotnear my entrance.

He clicks his tongue. “Aurora and Lilith never got you there?” he pushes. “Be honest. They’re not going to be offended.”

My body is vibrating, shivering. I claw at the sheets, grappling for purchase. “I can’t—”

“You don’t squirm like this when they eat your cunt,” he goes on, peering past the phone to look at me. “You don’t get flustered like this when your girls fuck you, baby.”

The thought of Dalton watching us is beyond me. I know he has—it’s how he found me in the first place. But imagining it—imagininghimstudying the minutia of my responses when I have my best friends’ mouths on me and their fingers inside me—makes my heart race.

“I don’t—”

“I know you can,” he interjects before he hooks his fingers again. “You can take it.”

“Please.”

“Deep breath,” he encourages. “Do it. Squirt on me, sweet girl. I want it on my face.”His face.

Dalton hooks his fingers again and again and again, and his big forearm flexes, muscles pulsating like the intricate mechanisms in the wheels of a steam engine. The pressure mounts, forming a crescendo at the apex of my pussy. When his mouth returns to my clit, climaxing becomes the single most important goal in my world.

“Push it out,” Dalton urges against my clit. “Make a mess of me.”

My body tingles, dancing on the precipice of a detonation. I breathe, and I breathe, and then I hold it all before I cry out, coming harder than I’ve come in months—even harder than on Halloween. Dalton doesn’t stop. His mouth sucks relentlessly on my clit, and his fingers thrust in and out so vigorously, fighting the clench of my muscles as I milk them. Deep in my center, a strange feeling arises from glowing embers until it ignites. Shock overwhelms me as my arousal gushes out and coats Dalton’s face—but the guy indulges in it. He opens his mouth, trying to catch my release on the flat of his pink tongue. He laps at me, groaning with satisfaction, and he licks all of it—my pussy, my thighs, even the bud of my asshole.

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