Page 53 of Afterglow
Fletcher mouths the other side, mirroring his movements while drawing a line down my midsection. I wrap a hand around his wrist to guide him, urging the toy through the cleft of my pussy. My legs splay to allow entrance, but he doesn’t push the fake cock in.
“Fucking look at you,” he laments through a sigh. “You’re fucking perfect.” The praise has me impatient for more. He rolls the toy over my clit, once, twice, three times, so calculated and unhurried, I almost can’t take it. “Where else can I touch you?”
“Inside me,” I plead. “Put your fingers inside me.”
He repositions himself, releasing the flesh of my breast to focus on my aching core. My hips lift when a slow drag of his callused finger teases the entrance. The walls throb, trying to pull the thick digit inside.
“Please, Fletcher.” I’m not beyond begging for this man. “Please.”
We gasp in tandem as one finger glides in without resistance.
“Fuck.”
The rumbly curse and heightened speed of the vibrator on my clit make me clench around his inserted finger.
His eyes grow and flutter with every lazy drive in and out. “You feel incredible.”
“Fletcher—don’t stop. You’re doing so well.”
He hisses while pushing a second finger in, stretching my walls with the combined width. I let out a shameless moan. My eyes roll back when he moves them against the front wall of my cunt, unceasing vibrations over my clit rocketing me to the climax.
“I’m so fucking hard, Bea,” he whines. “I’m gonna come again just from seeing you like this.” But he doesn’t stop. Instead, he presses the head of the silicone toy at the highest speed, right into the hood of my clit, quickening the movements of his fingers inside me.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I chant, arching from the bed as I spiral, tensing and shuddering without any semblance of control. A lilted cry of his name escapes me. Then, a sudden, surging stream.
When my vision returns, I’m wetter than usual. Shit.
Fletcher’s jaw hangs open. “You…you…”
“Oh, fuck.”
The pale pink of my sheets darkens to mauve. My hands rise to my sweaty, heated, embarrassed face. I squirted on this man the first time he fucked me with his fingers. He’s probably shocked. And disgusted, he’ll never want to be around me again.
“Unreal.” Fletcher leaves a kiss on the inside of my bent knee. I jolt, still recovering from the orgasm. “Can…Can I eat you out?”
I simper.
Hello, police? I’d like to file a report against Fletcher Donovan. He’s trying to kill me in broad daylight.
“Please?” His lush lips graze my inner thigh, nipping at the sensitive skin. “I’m dying to know how you taste.” My brain is empty. No words form in the post-orgasm haze. “Teach me, Bea. Teach me how to go down on you.”
“Let me get cleaned up first.” I go to straighten, but Fletcher stretches a hand across my stomach, the firm shove back to my reclining position low-key dominating. Hot.
“Later.”
“But—”
He butterflies my legs and pins them with a gentle pressure, sliding down the bed until he lies on his front. “I want you to come all over my face like that.” The filthy mouth on him. Surely this can’t be the same Fletcher Donovan who couldn’t speak to me for two weeks. “Tell me how.”
I don’t think I can. I’m too fucking turned on.
“Bea.” His lips draw the whisper onto my flesh, prickling it with his beard and closing in on the space between my legs. “Tell me where.”
My hand grabs a fistful of those incredible auburn strands atop his head, slotting his face exactly where I want him. “There.”
He noses through the trim hairs above the split of my pussy lips.
“T-tongue,” I stammer. He licks over my clit with a low moan. I gasp, grinding into him in response, but he keeps me spread open by circling his arms around my thighs. “Ssssuck.” He does, and I might as well be dead because heaven is having this man’s swollen lips on me. “Again.”
