Page 81 of Devotion

His thumbs massage my ass apart as he lifts my legs, running his palms up and down my thighs before resting them on his shoulders. Kissing down the inside, he sets my skin tingling, center flexing in anticipation of him. And after the first time he did this…

I can barely contain my excitement.

But he is intent on doing it his way. He kisses the outside of my black silk thong, letting me feel the heat of his lips and his breath through the thin fabric. If I was wet before, now I am drenched. His fingertips play at the edges of the fabric, easing it aside. The look of raw passion in his eyes is enough to make me shake.

He is my undoing.

So much so that when he finally drags the mess of silk down and tosses it away, I whimper, my hands trailing across my stomach. My hips writhe, my hands grip my tits, squeezing them to relieve the ache I feel in them.

“I could do this all night…” he mutters, lowering his mouth to me, watching my wide-eyed stare.

“You promise?”

His grin makes my toes curl.

Then the entire world narrows to one thing. One sensation. His tongue, lashing along my crease.

The sensation spreads to every part of me, stoking a flame that lay dormant in me. Setting the whole fucking world on fire.

Each flick along my apex, circling, curling and fluttering, sends my mind reeling. Pure bliss soars up along my spine, blossoming out in firework sprays of pleasure in my calves, into my toes. Through my chest, emanating out to my fingertips buried in his hair.

I am careening toward a precipice.

And I welcome it.

Ciro doubles down, increasing the speed of his heavenly tongue and twirling his fingertips just inside my opening. Then he does something completely heart-stopping.

Latching his arms around my thighs, he spin, lifting me off the cushions. He drops to the floor, resting his head where my back just was, planting my knees on the couch, never once letting up with his tongue.

I roll my hips, adjusting my position over him, gripping the back of the couch. His eyes track me, locked onto my figure with an avid longing that makes me ravenous.

And from his angle, I am in control.

His thumb toys at my entrance again, and I arch my back to give him better access, his lips locked around my throbbing peak. That devil’s tongue will be the end of me.

All of him will.

Rocking back and forth on his face, I let my head fall back, giving myself over completely to the rapture of riding Ciro Diamante’s mouth to the edge of existence. I tense, deep inside, my climax building for seconds, minutes.

My breath shudders in and out of my chest as the first crests of those waves whisper to me of the onslaught to come.

“Oh Ciro…oh Ciro…Cirooooh!” I cry, letting every bit of my angst, passion, stress, and desire burst forth from my core, erupting up through my chest and voiced in song. This man is a fucking legend. He is my king, and my throne.

My body roils without any constraint, no regard for anything but the pulsing orgasm wracking my frame. And Ciro nods in time to my bucking hips, keeping pace with me, driving me onward with that flickering tongue tip and a deep, rolling of his knuckle against the center of my bliss inside.

My forehead drops to the back of the couch as he slips out from under me. I cannot move.

But I am so far from done. And to let him know, I simply wag my ass, dipping my back into a deep, languid arch and spreading myself for him.

Peeking out from under my arms, I watch him in the firelight, standing in his glory. Every inch of his body is muscle, cut from marble. Shadows play along the curves of his arms, the dip in his hips. Leading down to his knee weakening prowess, standing tall and impossibly thick.

I quiver pulses within me, longing for him.

And he does not disappoint.

His head slides along my crease, up between my cheeks, dragging back down like there is no time, nothing else in the world but me. My heart pounds, my legs tremble.

Closing my eyes, I wait, savoring the anticipation.

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