Page 49 of Whiskey Splash

He rings my clit.

“Oh God, don’t stop!”

I see stars as he rings it again.

And again.

I clasp my hands over my face, it’s so damn hot, my ass sliding up and down the tile as his shoulders rock, tongue inside me, punishing.

“How many pussies did you have to eat to get this good!” I cry out, not even able to shut up during sex. “Is there a school for this type of thing? Because God, you’re bloody inhuman!”

I writhe against his face, gasping, massaging my own tits as my orgasm buds.

His hands dig into my thighs, opening me even wider, my knees are almost touching the tile as I’m spread under him.

“Desmond! Desmond!” I’m chanting his name, spiraling so hot my cunt is clenching. I dive my hands into his hair, desperate for something to hold onto. “I’m going to come! I’m going to come!” I warn, my feet on his ribs, trying to give me more leverage.

His tongue laps wide, up and back and inside, thrusting and ringing my clit and—all of me winds up like a gun being cocked, and—

Wicked vile words explode out of my mouth as I drag my cunt against his lips, saying everything and anything.

“I’m coming on your face Desmond,” I cry out. “Oh God, I’m coming on your face!”

He doesn’t let up, sucking harder as all of me shudders and unspools. My thighs quake against his cheeks, my clit a hard candy in his mouth, every slick and erotic fold trembling. My legs go slack against his shoulders and he rocks me through each carnal wave. My throat is hoarse from the things he’s now heard me shout, my entire body thrumming like a plucked string, the orgasm still vibrating in every nerve of my being.

I gasp, try to breathe, gulp down air, wheeze.

The heat of his mouth releases from my pussy and he crawls up over by body. “Holy shit,” he curses, staring down at me like a hurricane just hit him. “You weren’t kidding! That was—” He licks his lips instead of finishing what he was going to say, like he wants to savor the exact flavor of my orgasm.

“I’m pretty sure that was all you,” I say breathlessly, and he shakes his head.

“I’m not sure I did anything other than hold on and go for the ride. Damn!”

“Cheeky boy!” I sass, grabbing him by the neck and pulling him down against me. The whole incredible weight of his body presses me into the tile as I kiss him, tasting my own erotic flavor on his tongue. “I think I’m the one who got hit by Hurricane Desmond.”

He smiles against my mouth, well aware of his talents, and my arms and legs wrap around him.

“You know—” he says, kissing me softly before brushing some strands of hair off of my forehead. “If that’s how hard you come on my face—” A sideways smile pulls at his cheek. “I think you’re going to explode when you come on my cock.”

He shifts his hips, pressing his hard bulge against my rawness and my mouth falls open. He’s still hard as a rock, unsated, and wanting release. Only, I’m so overheated, so totally gone, I can’t imagine taking him right now.

He starts kissing me softly, perfectly. He cups my face so gently that I feel like I’m melting under him, dissolving into the tile, lost in his sweetness.

I don’t hear the thunder anymore and a cool wind gusts over us, making him shiver. Our arms tangle and the heat between us shifts, becomes less animal and more tenderness. Our breath starts to sync and he feels like an ocean lulling me with his soft waves.

Every kiss touches something deeper in my skin, and maybe it’s because I just came so unabashedly, and he’s already seen the wild animal inside that I’m not afraid to show him the rest of me.

“Bed,” I whisper to him, wanting the softness now. Wanting the luxury and the intimacy and his overwhelming beauty.

He pulls back and the lust in his eyes is still here, but something more is threaded in his amber stare. He nods and I lean up to kiss him softly, our lips whisper, tiny tendrils of something budding between us.

He pushes off of me, the release of his weight making me lightheaded as he steps back. He’s calf-high in the water with me naked below him, those gorgeous eyes soft and scanning me elegantly, like he wants to imprint in his mind every second. This moment. The next. Keep them all in some precious box. I don’t close my knees, allowing him to see—all of me—including the slick organ he honored so wickedly.

And as he looks at me—really looks at me—I feel the heat of desire slick me again. I close my legs and look back, meeting his intensity, before dragging my eyes down to where he’s thick inside he shorts. He’s seen me. I flick my eyes back up to him, waiting.

He doesn’t let that flirtatious smile get the better of him, instead he stares straight into me as he slides his thumbs under the elastic band of his shorts and pulls them down. I don’t break our stare, even when I see the shadow of his cock release from his boxers.

The heat in his eyes is intoxicating, and I know I’ll get to look at his Adonis-wet body in a minute. Instead, I take in the vulnerability in his eyes, admitting to myself that I want to get to know him, to feel this sexy and cherished and seen by him. And I hope he can feel it too, that he isn’t some hot actor to me. He’s more. He’s someone I let down my guard to be with.

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