Page 58 of Blood Debt
My hands push under her skirt. The fabric bunches at her waist as I yank her panties down, dragging them over her hips, past her knees, off completely. Her breath hitches.
I look up once her thighs are already trembling, lips swollen.
Then I lean in.
My tongue presses flat to her pussy. She gasps, her back arching, a moan slipping loose before she can stop it.
I lick her again, up through her folds, savoring every drop. Her wetness coats my mouth. My tongue curls at the top, flicking her clit just barely, and her hips jerk.
She groans.
One hand flies to my head, her fingers twisting in my hair. She doesn’t guide me—just holds on.
I grip her thighs and push them open wider, anchoring her in place. Then I thrust my tongue into her waiting hole. She chokes on a cry, hips rolling toward me.
Her pussy clenches around nothing as I fuck her with my tongue, each thrust slicker, wetter, more desperate. I can feel her thighs shaking.
She moans again, her hand strokes over my scalp, fingers trembling.
I lap at her entrance, tongue plunging in, dragging out, fucking her deep until her cries turn into whimpers and her breath breaks in gasps.
Then I shift higher.
My tongue slides up, licking through her soaked folds until I find her clit.
I press my mouth to it and suck. She cries out, and her hand clamps over her own mouth, muffling the sound.
I keep licking, sucking, circling her clit with the flat of my tongue, teasing and punishing. Her thighs quiver, her hips grind against my face, and I know she’s close—so close she can’t breathe.
Her body’s shaking. Her fingers tug at my hair.
Her hips roll up into my mouth. Her thighs press against my face, and she grinds into every flick of my tongue like she’s chasing the edge. I groan into her, licking faster, deeper.
Her hands fist in my hair.
She tugs—pulls me in—and I feel the desperation in her grip. She’s soaked. Her body isn’t asking anymore—it’s begging. My cock aches.
I pull back, just barely, breath hot against her slick folds. She whimpers at the loss, her hips still twitching, grinding for more.
I rise to my knees, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, and reach for my belt. I unbuckle it fast, shove my pants down, and free myself, already throbbing.
I look down at her—face flushed, hair spread out over the couch cushion, lips parted, breath shallow. I grip her thighs and drag her to the edge of the couch. She gasps, but doesn’t stop me. Her legs fall open for me, wide and welcoming.
I press the head of my cock to her entrance. And I pause as we both breathe the same sharp breath.
Then I push in.
She cries out—a sound between shock and relief—and my groan matches hers, as I sink into her, inch by inch. Her pussy clenches around me, wet and hot and perfect. I bottom out with a sharp exhale, my hands gripping her waist as her body pulls me in.
“Fuck,” I whisper, forehead resting against hers.
She’s gasping beneath me, eyes fluttering, legs trembling. Her hands slide up my chest, then to my face.
Her lips find mine. Then they part.
I kiss her—deep and slow, tongue stroking hers, matching the rhythm of my hips as I start to move.
Her moan spills into my mouth.
