Page 85 of The Invitation
The front of my bra falls into my hands, letting my breasts hang free. A slow, shit-eating smile covers Ripley’s lips as he brings a hand to my chest.
“These are fucking perfect,” he says, palming one of the heavy globes.
I flex against him again.
“Do you want to come, Peaches?”
“Yes,” I hiss, straddling the edge of an orgasm.
He drops his hand to my hip … and his face to my mound.
“Oh, my God,” I mutter, my mind blowing into a million pieces. My hands fly into his hair, pulling him tighter to me, as I moan.
He fucks my pussy with his fingers relentlessly, and the sounds of my arousal rings through the air. He traces a figure eight against my clit and my breathing gets heavier. Harder. More desperate.
“Put your foot on that chair,” he says, before blowing against my clit and making me tremble.
I do as instructed—I’m innoposition to argue—and as soon as my foot is in position and his tongue touches me, I scream in delight.
A hand on my breast. Two, maybe three, fingers inside me. His tongue licking back and forth over my sensitive nub.
The intensity is too much. The pressure almost painful. The sight of Ripley’s mouth on my pussy, his eyes trained on mine, is the icing on the cake.
“Don’t stop,” I warn him, my voice wobbling through the orgasm.
I pull his hair, drawing him into me, nearly smothering him—but I don’t care. He devours me like I’m his last meal on earth.
I ride out the climax on his face, milking it for every last shot of pleasure. My mind hosts a fireworks display that’s a burst of every color of the rainbow. My breasts bounce as I endure the heat of the moment and try not to shatter.
As my sounds lessen, and my shakes calm, Ripley slows and softens his touches.
I slump against the wall, my mind putting itself back together much faster than my body.
Holy shit. I just came on Ripley Brewer’s face.
He stands, a smile splitting his cheeks, and presses a long, hard kiss to my lips. I taste myself on his tongue and feel the lingering wetness from my body on his face. When he pulls back, he’s still grinning.
“That was worth the wait.” He winks at me, heading to his backpack.
My head spins. “That’s not all, right?”
“Why?” He grabs the shirt he wore today and wipes his face off. “Did you want something else?”
He can’t be serious.“Yeah. Your cock.”
He chuckles as he digs through his bag. “Oh, you’re going to get my cock, Peaches. But I need a condom first.”
“Tell me you have one.”
“I think I do.”
Is he freaking kidding me?
I sit on the coffee table in front of the sofa. Ripley watches me out of the corner of his eye, amused.
“If you don’t have a condom, you’re fucking me anyway,” I say. “I did a physical after I broke up with Donovan and I’m healthy.”
“I’m healthy too, but that’s not the problem.”
