Page 49 of Open Secrets
I glance up — her eyes are on me, wide with confusion, half pleading. I give her a quick grin, then lower my mouth and drag my tongue over her, slow and deliberate. The second I hit her clit, Maria’s back bows hard. Her thighs snap shut on my head by reflex.
I shove one hand between them, prying her open, while my other arm locks around her hip to keep her pinned.
I go to work. My tongue circles, pressing into every edge and crease of her clit. Then I hum from deep in my chest, letting the vibration roll through her.
It works. It always worked.
Her hands claw everywhere — yanking at my hair, scraping the carpet, grabbing anything within reach. She’s losing control, and I love watching it happen. I glance up just in time to see her bite down on the back of her hand to keep from screaming.
A growl rips out of me. That pisses me off more than it should. She’s holding her noises back from me.
I freeze. My tongue stops dead on her clit. I don’t move, don’t pull away — just stop.
Her head snaps up. “Why?” she gasps, almost angry, almost begging.
“Because,” I say, voice rough. “You hold back the sounds, I stop.”
Her eyes flash. “The neighbours, Lyle!” she hisses, exasperated.
I raise my eyebrows, unmoved.
“Not this time,” I tell her, pressing her hips back down. “Not today.”
Her eyes narrow like she wants to fight me on it, but I don’t give her the chance. I pin her thighs wide, my shoulders holding her open, and I bury my mouth back against her.
This time I don’t tease. I flatten my tongue against her clit and grind it in circles, rough and steady, while my fingers slide inside her — two at once, knuckles deep. I curl them hard and feel the walls of her pussy squeeze around them.
Maria gasps so loud it echoes off the walls. Good. No hiding this time.
Her hands fist in my hair, yanking so hard my scalp burns, but I don’t stop. My jaw aches with the pressure of holding her down, my shoulders strain against her kicking legs, but I keep her where I want her.
I suck her clit into my mouth, tongue lashing over it, and the taste floods me — sharp, salty, wet. I hum again, harder, and her whole body jerks like I just shocked her.
Her moans start raw and guttural, building into higher sounds, desperate and loud. The kind of sounds that make my cock throb against the floor, leaking inside my shorts. Every noise she makes shoots through me like a live current, winding me tighter.
“Fuck—Lyle!” she cries, her head thrashing side to side. “I can’t—oh God—”
“Yes you can,” I snarl against her, my lips dragging over her clit as my fingers piston inside her. “You’re going to. Right here. Loud.”
Her hips buck so hard I nearly lose rhythm, but I slam my forearm across her stomach, holding her down while I keep working her. She’s grinding into my face now, riding it, chasing it.
“Lyle—fuck—” She screams it this time, high and broken.
That’s it. That’s what I wanted.
Her thighs clamp around my head as her whole body locks up. I feel her cunt squeeze tight around my fingers, pulsing hard, wet heat gushing into my palm. She convulses under me, crying out without restraint, her voice ragged and wild.
I keep going until she’s shaking too much to breathe, until her nails tear at the carpet for purchase. Only then do I ease up,dragging my tongue slowly over her swollen clit, tasting every drop.
When I finally look up, she’s wrecked. Hair plastered to her forehead, chest heaving, face flushed deep red. Her arm’s thrown over her eyes like she can’t stand to meet mine.
I crawl up her body, pinning her wrists to the floor so she can’t hide. I kiss her, shoving my tongue into her mouth so she can taste herself on me.
“You don’t hide from me,” I growl against her lips. “Not your sounds. Not your face. Nothing.”
She stares at me, panting, lips trembling. Then she nods once, sharp. “Okay.”
Her hand snakes down between us, wrapping around my cock through my shorts. I hiss, the shock of it hitting hard. The friction of the fabric nearly makes me lose it right there.
