Page 79 of Female Fantasy
“Excuse me?” I’ve dated so many men, but not one has ever bothered to ask that question.
“Come on, Joon.” He gives my ass a playful squeeze. “You’re a romance reader. I know what that means. You’ve spent time exploring what turns you on. And that turns me on, too.”
I grip his head like a steering wheel. The groan he lets out in response vibrates against my clit.
“Start slow,” I whisper. “Tease me.”
Nico doesn’t hesitate. He leans in and parts my folds with his tongue, not quite reaching the spot where I need him most.
“Like this?” He moans at the taste. “Fuck, you’re so wet, Joonie.”
He paints torturous, deliberate circles around my nerves, causing me to cry out.
“Fuck yes,” he hisses. “I love that you know what you want.”
His tongue circles my entrance, shallowly dipping in.
“Tell me what else you like.” His eyes meet mine, heavy-lidded with lust.
“I’ve been looking for this. For you. You’re the first to…to…”
“To what?” A finger replaces his tongue, edging its way inside me. I stifle a scream. “To make your legs shake? To make your entire body clench? Or to make you beg?”
A sliver of indignation passes through me. “I haven’t begged.”
“No.” The finger inside of me begins to move. Slowly at first, then faster. Working up to a rhythm that I’ve only read about in books. “But you will.”
Before I can protest, Nico adds a second finger, moving both of them against that hidden place deep inside of me that always makes me see stars. I close my eyes and throw my head back, a guttural sound leaving my throat that I don’t even recognize. He continues to run his tongue back and forth over my slit, pausing to whisper words of encouragement that make me writhe. But as I squirm, a strong arm keeps my legs in place.
For the first time in forever, I don’t compare the person I’m with to Ryke.
I don’t think about Kyle.
In fact, I don’t think at all.
There are only the sensations. Of Nico’s fingers pumping in and out of me, stroking my inner walls. Of his hot tongue and lips, adding suction to that bundle of nerves. Of his racing pulse beneath my fingers, proving to me that he’s enjoying this as much as I am.
“Is this real?” I hear myself whisper.
“This,” he says, curling his fingers, “is as real as it gets.”
And then, against my better judgment, I prove Nico right.
“Please,” I hear myself say.
“Please what?” He removes his fingers entirely, and I immediately mourn the loss. “Use your words.”
“Please, Nico.” I shamelessly grind my hips against his face, seeking friction.
He laughs. “Please, Nico, what?”
“Please let me come, asshole,” I practically bite, shutting my eyes tightly.
Then I hear the tearing of a wrapper, the sound of a zipper, and Nico’s labored breaths. His hand touches my face, gently stroking my cheek. I hum as he cups my head.
“Look at me,” he says softly.
He locks onto my eyes and draws in a short breath.
