Page 47 of Masks and Mishaps

I sprinkle a line of rock salt over the fabric covering her pussy before I grab the bottle of tequila. “Try not to flinch, baby,” I say before I pour a slow stream into the divot of her bellybutton—not much liquor, but the effect is glorious. A golden droplet slides down her side, and I catch it with my finger before I bring it to my lips and suck.

Fucking delicious—and I need more.

I dip down to Essie’s pussy and lick the salt off her thong, inhaling the heady scent of her arousal while my tongue slides over the fabric. Then I move up and suck the tequila out of her bellybutton, relishing her inhalation when my lips touch her skin. Quickly, I swallow the tequila before licking a trail along her body until I reach her mouth. There, I bite into the lime wedge between her teeth.

Lime juice floods my tongue while I study her. Eyes hooded, she’s running her pink tongue over her lips, tasting the same hit of acid I’m tasting. I give the lime wedge one last suck before I put it aside.

The moment feels heavy.

Slowly, I run my hand over her body, skimming her tequila-damp belly before I elevate on my knees. “Again?”

She nods.

This time, I sprinkle the salt between her breasts and drag the lime wedge over her lips. The shot is the tricky part though. I tap her lower lip with my finger. “Open,” I instruct before I hold the shot glass over Essie’s mouth.

She gets the picture immediately.

Opening wider, she takes the shot glass between her plump lips and holds it there, not moving a muscle—impressive—but no shit. My girl is a professional.

I pour a shot into the glass, and then it’s round two. Keeping my hands behind my back, I lick the salt from between her tits. Then I capture the shot glass with my own mouth, slide it out of Essie’s, and throw it back—no hands. It’s an old party trick that once prompted a guy from my econ class to speculate I would be amazing at sucking dick—but I haven’t done it in years.

Hands-free shots, that is. I’ve never sucked a dick.

And speaking of sucking, the pair of lips in front of me would do astounding work on a dick—and they’re waiting for me.

I force the shot glass out of my mouth with my tongue, letting it clatter to the hardwood floor before I lick the lime juice off Essie’s lips. I groan, indulging in the closest we’ve ever come to kissing—and I’m shocked when Essie groans too.

When I pull back, her lips are parted and her chest is heaving. “Dalt,” she murmurs. “Please give me a drink. Or am I going to shoot tequila off you now?”

Even if I didn’t know every damn thing about Essie Romero, I’d be able to tell she was desperately seeking something to ground her against her arousal. I grab the bottle of tequila by the neck and take a swig before I lean over and tap her chin. When she parts her perfect lips, I drip the liquor directly into her mouth from mine.

“Good girl. Look how good you take it,” I murmur, watching her throat flex as she swallows down the liquor with a slight grimace. I place a lime wedge between her lips. “Bite, baby,” I guide, dabbing at the corner of her lips with the tip of my thumb. “Suck on it.”

Essie groans before taking the lime wedge out, and the corner of her mouth rises. “Again.”

I take another swig from the bottle and repeat, spitting more liquor between her parted lips. Another lime. A third swig. Another lime. It’s filthy but it’s natural—the act of drinking from each other. It’s a level of intimacy most people never share, and yet it’s part and parcel with who Essie and I are becoming—more than intimate, justmore.

And sharing my vice feels intense somehow—that for once, our bloodstreams carry the same substances, the same pieces, and I was the one she trusted. I was the one she asked to take care of her.

After the third shot, she presses her hands to her bare stomach, feeling her own skin. “It tastes better this time,” she murmurs, letting her eyelids fall. “I feel warm.”

“Getting tipsy?” I ask, joining her and running the backs of my fingers over her exposed skin. “God, everything about you is pure sex…. Can I film this?” Without waiting for a response, I pick up my phone and switch to the camera.

“No mask, so no faces,” she warns, but she doesn’t stop dragging her hands over her body—and sliding her breasts out of her bra.

“All tits,” I promise, holding the camera over her now-exposed breasts. “And pussy,” I go on, delving my fingers under her thong—and I click my tongue with approval. “Those shots got you so wet, sweet girl.”

“Yeah?” she asks, almost as if she’s excited.

“Drenched. This pussy always does what it’s supposed to.” I hook my middle finger in her panties and tug them to the side, exposing her plump lips. “I’m obsessed with it. I get obsessed with a lot of things, but this perfection between your thighs has me down so damn bad.”

“The taste?”

“The taste. The way it squirts. I can’t wait to see my cum splashed over it, puffy lips coated in it. I’ll lick it off too.”

Essie hoists herself up on her elbows and looks at the lewd sight I’ve been filming—her tequila-wet, spread body.

“I like it filled,” she muses, speaking quietly. “I like it stuffed.”

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