Page 86 of Flame
“Where is that cocky woman from before?” he asks, toying with me. “Where’s the woman who’s been begging to be fucked?”
“She’s still begging to be fucked. She’s just so worked up that words are hard.”
He laughs, lowering his face. The laughter fades as he takes a long, slow taste of my pussy.
My gosh, that feels good.
He takes his time as if he’s relishing the taste of my body. The sound of him sucking and licking rings through the room. I moan his name, threading my fingers through his hair and encouraging him to continue.
He adds a finger, then two, to the mix. They pump in and out as he watches me bask in the flood of sensations.
“Does that feel good?” he asks.
I hum.
“Come on, sweetheart,” he says. “You have to tell me what you like. I want to know what my wife enjoys.”
He spreads me open, probing his tongue inside me.
“That … that feels good,” I say, struggling to form words.
He presses small circles over my clit as he continues to tongue my opening. The suckling noises, the scent of sex, the brackish taste still on my tongue are all too much.
My legs begin to shake.
I dig my fingers into his scalp as my whole body tenses.
The buildup is slow and steady. It’s delicious and divine. The warmth that accompanies the impending orgasm floods my veins, pooling in my already overstimulated pussy. And as he flicks, increasing the pressure on my tingling flesh, I fall apart.
“Foxx,” I half say, half shout. My teeth clench so hard I’m afraid I’ll need a dentist. “Yes! My God! Yes! Oh my …fuckkkk!”
He clamps an arm over my belly as I grapple against the force of the orgasm.I try to writhe, try to slip out from under him—but it’s no use.
I’m going to lie here and let this burst of pleasure tear me apart.
The intensity surges, and I scream, tears dotting my eyes from the pressure. I can’t see clearly. I can’t make out any sounds or words distinctly. All I know is that I’m falling apart around Foxx’s tongue.
“I can’t …” I shiver as I fall gently back to reality. The intensity is nearly painful. “Foxx, I can’t.Please.”
He eases back, pressing a soft kiss to my opening before lifting his head.
My face is flushed, and my body is spent. My muscles refuse to cooperate as I place the back of my hand against my forehead and watch Foxx climb up the bed and lie beside me.
He strokes my cheek with the back of his hand.
“Can I make a request?” I ask.
He chuckles. “Sure.”
I turn my head to face him. “Can we work out some kind of a deal so I get that every day of our marriage? At least once?”
His laughter—loud, deep, and free, is unexpected. But it might be the best sound I’ve ever heard.
Foxx doesn’t laugh often. And when he does, he doesn’t laugh like this.Except for now.
“I think we can throw it into our vows,” he says, his eyes shining.
I giggle. “So what you’re saying is that you really said—to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, promising to make your wife come on your face every day for as long as you both shall live?”
