Page 26 of She Devil
I experience another wave of nostalgia for that April—the woman who would allow me to see her softer side. Who would smile, laugh and enjoy the simple things in life. Who wasn’t driven by power, status and the demands of her family.
Where has she gone?
My heart gives a heavy thump against my chest.
I want herfuckingback.
With only that thought in my head, I reach towards her, cupping her jaw in my hands and pulling her mouth towards mine. She lets out a small gasp of surprise and stiffens—but only for a second. As soon as I open my lips against hers and slide my tongue into her mouth, I feel her body melt against me. I kiss her greedily, my mouth pressed firmly to hers, my tongue exploring the hot softness of her mouth. Our bodies slip and slide against each other in the water as I wrap my arms around her back and pull her closer. I feel her breasts crush against my chest and experience a fierce surge of longing to explore them with my hands and mouth. I want to hear her moan for me like she used to.
Moving us to the side of the pool, I pull the bow loose at the back of her bikini top where it’s tied around her neck. Then, after I push her against the side, I take a step back so the straps can slither down her body and the two triangles of material fall away, revealing her breasts in all their glory.
And they are magnificent. Firm and voluptuous, with those rose-pink nipples which are currently erect and just begging for my attention. I bend to kiss first one, then the other, hearing her ragged intake of breath as I let my hot breath tantalise her skin before sucking down hard. Her body bucks against me as if I’ve hit a pleasure point—which I know, from past experience, that I have.
I use both hands to scoop her breasts together and I move my head between them, first running my tongue round and round each aureole before sucking down on each nipple in turn, until I feel her whole body shuddering under my touch. She has her back pressed up against the edge of the pool and both arms splayed on either side of her to keep her balanced. When I glance up her head is tipped back, her eyes shut and her lips parted as soft breaths sigh in and out of her.
She looks glorious there, in the bright morning sunshine, her skin perfect and smooth, the tall column of her throat elegantly extended.
I want to do more to her. To see, hear and feel more of that carnal need.
Sliding my hands down her body, I curve my fingers under her buttocks and lift her up onto the side of the pool.
She lets out a gasp of surprise as I push her legs apart and roughly tug aside her bikini bottoms. My gaze locks with hers and she gives me a nod of approval. ‘Go ahead,’ she whispers in a hoarse voice.
I don’t need any more encouragement than that and lower my mouth to her exposed pussy, which gleams with moisture in the brilliant sunlight.
Using my fingertips, I gently open her up to reveal the hard nub of her clitoris to my greedy gaze before flicking my tongue over it.
Her legs jump beside my head and she lets out a soft yelp of approval. So I do it again, then slide the tip of my tongue down between her folds, exploring every part of her pussy, before moving back up to swirl my tongue round and around the periphery of her clit, until I feel her desperation for more direct contact, which I give her after another moment’s pause.
The low, guttural groan she lets out causes my already hard cock to give a throb of extreme interest. But I ignore my own need and continue to focus on hers, lathing my tongue between her folds then dipping a finger inside her to locate the spot I know drives her wild. Her whole body jerks when I press hard on it and her hips twist with pleasure as instinctively she tries to get me to do it again.
But I want to hear her say it. To ask me for what she wants. To plead with me to give her what she needs.
I know she’s enjoying this. I can tell. I know her body so well, even after all these years. But I want to hear it from her lips.
When we’d first started having sex, she’d been coy and hesitant—she’d been a virgin, in fact—and I’d taken great pleasure in teaching her everything I knew. And she’d responded so well—once she’d allowed herself to give in to her desire. That’s how I knew she’d been lying about not orgasming with me. I knew her tells—her uninhibited displays of abandon—for what they were.
Like now—the way her fingers are gripping the sides of the pool and the little gurgles of pleasure in the back of her throat. I know them. They make sense.
I remember.
Come on, April, lose it for me. Tell me how much you want me, even though you’re desperate not to let me know.
But she doesn’t. She doesn’t say a thing. She just takes what I’m giving her. And I sense her resistance.
But I’m not prepared to give up just yet. I know it’s possible to get what I want from her, if she’ll just let go a little...
I continue to stroke her hard with my finger, making a beckoning motion to catch her G spot every time while using the flat of my tongue to lap her clit.
She’s shaking with the intensity of the pleasure I’m giving her, but she’s still not letting go. Her lips are clamped shut and her eyes closed, as if she’s fighting this—fighting her need. She doesn’t want to give me the satisfaction of seeing her losing her shit, so she’s still holding back.
I ramp up both the speed and pressure of what I’m doing to her and I’m rewarded with a low gurgle in her throat. But it’s still not enough. She’s not abandoned, as I want her to be.
And then, out of nowhere, I feel her coming against my mouth. Her legs shake next to my head and I look up to see her whole body is tense and straining with the effort of keeping herself upright on the side of the pool.
Her eyes are screwed shut, but she’s not making any noise. She’s completely internalised it.
This orgasm is for her only. As if she’s just been using my mouth to masturbate.
