Watching her swallow the mouth-full of whip, I drop the phone and can to pull her back down on me.
Her lips are sweet and sticky. I devour her, one kiss after another, working my tongue in her mouth with the same devotion she granted me.
My arms tighten around her waist. I roll us over, my hips still grinding into her with unrelenting fervor. The strip of lace covering her is drenched, and I’m eager to answer her need.
My hand skates up her back to unhook her bra. “My turn,” I rasp, releasing her lips.
Kneeling between her thighs, I straighten and slide the bra off before reaching for the can on the bed again.
I shake it.
With the button pushed, I make two circles, one around each dark pink nipple, then connect them in a curve like a smile across her sternum.
“It tickles,” she says as I add another line of thick white along her stomach.
I stop at her panty line and lose the Reddi Wip for a moment while lowering my lips to her. My tongue swirls her nipples first. Then, meticulously slow, I lick and suck all traces of cream down her front to the gap between her thighs.
I pause.
My eyes lift to her, and a guttural sound swells in my throat when I meet her anticipating gaze before I dip.
Em whimpers as I kiss her through the lace. I draw her in, feasting on the sweet scent that’s all her. She smells sublime.
But I need more.
I need a taste.
I hook the front of the delicate black material with my forefinger and rip it down in one go. Eyes riveted to her face, my hand recovers the aerosol can blindly.
I don’t stall. I can’t. The sight of her so ready robs me of patience. I cover her pussy in whipped cream and dive in.
The first curl of my tongue has her squirming against my mouth. I hook my arms around her hips to keep her still, but she bucks like a wild horse as I start to suck her clit.
I hold her tighter, flicking my piercing at the bundle of nerves, then thrusting it up into her slick seam again.
Emily splinters apart against my mouth. I straighten and push my cock into her to feel the last pulses of her climax.
Reaching for my phone on the mattress beside her, I press record again.
I go slow. I want to draw this one out. I’m not going to blow my second load so quickly.
Soft moans tangle in her breaths. I capture every sound, every little whimper my movements force from her. She can’t hide it from the camera. Can’t hide it fromme.
Her hips roll to meet my lazy thrusts, her heels pushing off the bed to urge me into a deeper angle, thighs trembling.
I hold back.
I want the friction edging her, but I don’t want her to come yet.
And then I pull out.
“Show me how in control you are, Em,” I say, taking her hand and guiding it to her pink pussy. “Masturbate for me.”
I wrap a fist around the head of my pulsing shaft, squeezing it in my palm as my eyes follow the path her fingers lead.
I match her rhythm. Stroking my entire length from tip to base back and forth, I give her control over my pleasure.
And fuck, she’s good. When her middle and forefinger dip into her soft flesh, it ignites a ball of lightning in my stomach. I want to speed up.