Page 6 of The Guy from that One Summer
“What is that?” I know the term, but I’m not sure he means it in the way I think he does.
“If I call you my dirty fucking whore, are you going to get wetter, or punch me?”
“Oh, God,” I moan, tossing my head back and arching my back. That sounded so damn good coming from his mouth. A mouth I want on me this instant.
“The dirtier, the better,” I admit. Damon never talked like that, but I sure liked it in the videos I watched. And now it’s full circle—I’ll be watching my pornos, but it’ll me as the star of the show. Yes, please.
“Good girl. Now open that beautiful slutty pussy for me.”
“Finn!” I moan, my chest heaving, my breasts shaking with the arousal so deeply imbedded in me.
“That sounds like music to my ears.” With that, he dives between my legs, and his lips lock and suck hard on my clit. My back bows from the counter, and I reach up with one hand to grip my hair and my other down to grasp his head as I orgasm against his mouth.
“Responsive, you’re going to do so well.” He keeps eating me with a hunger I’m not sure he’ll ever sate. Either way, it feels so damn good.
Who is this man?
Does he do this often? Come into a woman’s home using his charm, do things only a sinner can do, and then leave? What number am I? I almost stop to ask him, but his tongue plunges into my tight hole, his grip on my thighs holding me in place.
“Shit! Shit! Shit!” I cry out, moaning so loudly all of the Hamptons can probably hear it.
“Mmmhmm,” he moans, the vibrations adding to the sensation. I am close. So close that all it would take is one touch on my clit and I’d come again. And he does just that, reaching up and playing with my breasts, rolling the nipples between his thick, masculine fingers, tweaking them just right as he sucks my clit into his mouth. I soak his face then, doing something I never knew I could do.
Did I just squirt?
“Oh no, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know I could do that. That’s never happened.” My face grows hot I’m so embarrassed.
But he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he laps up every damn drop, and I can’t believe this is happening to me. The more and more we get into this, the more unbelievable it becomes. Shouldn’t it be the other way around? Reality shouldn’t be this fantastical, right?
“Don’t be sorry. In fact, I want you to do that again, but this time, I want you to feed me my meal, Remy.”
On shaky elbows, I sit up, not sure what he means. “I can’t do that again. I’m sensitive now,” I admit.
“Good. The more sensitive, the more intoxicating the orgasm.”
I’m seeing he’s a giver. What kind of man gives two orgasms and then plans on a third?
“Hands,” he orders, holding out his for me. I’m thankful, because I have no equilibrium at the moment.
Helping me stand, he bends and kisses along my neck for a minute, removing the rest of my dress as he does. The action is way more intimate than what I think he means for it to be, but it gives me butterflies. The ones we all want but hope will last more than a fleeting moment, and at the end of the day, that’s what this is. Just a fleeting moment. A moment in time I will look back on, maybe with regret, but most likely as something I wish I could do repeatedly.
I stand in front of him naked now. Bare to him with no reservations left, physical nor metaphorical. He still stands fully dressed in his workout clothes. A heather-gray Nike shirt, with basketball shorts and his Nike sneakers. His hair is the only thing out of place, from my hands gripping at him in my desperate state.
“Your body… that’s what I imagine pure sin to look like. I will search, explore, and worship at the altar of your fucking feminine body. It’s made for fucking. Made for me to take as I see fit. Welcome to the dark side of sex, Remy. Now, undress me.”
When I don’t move, he toes off his shoes and removes his socks, and then he stands back up. His shorts are tented, and I stare at the impressive bulge. What will be waiting for me under his clothes?
“Now, Remy. I’m impatient and want more of you. Don’t make me go hungry.”
I gulp and jolt into action. I remove his shirt first. Not one bit of fat takes over an inch of him. He has impressive abs, the ridges so defined they dent deeply and deliciously. His chest and shoulders are broad and look like they can protect me, keep me warm, but simultaneously be used to help him fuck me ruthlessly. His arms are just a defined, winding with muscle. Veins protrude all the way down to his hands, ending in those strong, thick, and long fingers.
I can’t wait to see him in all his naked glory, but before that, I want to see him shiver and quake like I had. Using just the tips of my fingers, I slip into his waistband, where the V disappears, and run them over the hot, taught skin. He does just as I hoped—shivering and jolting at the touch.
“Fuck,” he groans.
“You want me? All of me?” I murmur.
“I can’t wait to impale you on this cock and make you crazy with pleasure. I think your pussy will be my favorite place to be. Might have to do this again before you leave.” Realizing that I will, in fact, leave eventually, it hits me enough to have me feeling some kind of ping in my stomach.
