Page 41 of Desperately Seeking Kitty

“We’ll figure it out.”

To hell with subtleties.

“If you’re not into the natural look, you might want to respect the barrier and go take care of things yourself. Or I can. Tit for tat and all. Because I kind of look like an overgrown chia pet down there. No foliage though.” I sincerely hoped.

I was babbling now, and he was still undressing me with the focus of an Olympic skier facing his most challenging course with grim-eyed determination.

Then he stopped. “Are you trying to tell me you don’t wax?”

I shuddered. “Would you want hot wax or however they do it near your penis?”

It was his turn to shudder. “Uh, no. And I have no problem with hair. Soshh.”

Somehow he tugged the tights off without ripping them and held them up victoriously. Then his gaze snagged between my legs. “Oh, fuck.”

I glanced down. My panties were soaked.

My cheeks burned. “I get really…”

He did not wait for my explanation. He just threw my tights where my skirt and boots had gone, tore off my cherry granny panties—literally tore them right in two—and opened my damp thighs as if he was dying to taste me. And dove right in.

I tried to warn him. I didn’t even know for what. That I was going to come again? That I might pass out? I wasn’t sure.

But I didn’t know where to put my hands while he devoured me, and in any case, I couldn’t think straight with those laser-like pulls on my overstimulated clit.

I wanted to touch his hair. Maybe pull those soft curls while I pushed him deeper like all the heroines in the books I edited.

But I couldn’t. That seemed even more intimate thanthissomehow. So I closed my eyes and reached up to grip my own breasts to try to soothe the relentless ache inside me.

He swore against my pussy. “You’re going to fucking kill me, Kitty.”

I opened my eyes to find him watching me as I restlessly tugged at my own nipples, my hips rising and falling. His short beard was wet from me, and, while he watched me touch my breasts, he slipped a finger inside me, groaning as I squeezed around him.

“Need another,” I whispered, and he didn’t hesitate to comply.

“Goddamn, you’re tight. You’re not going to be able to walk tomorrow. If I let you out of this,” he gazed around dazedly as if he’d forgotten where he was, “couch.”

“Not going anywhere.”

He lowered his mouth again, sucking and licking my pussy while he used his fingers to work magic inside me. I was already shaking so hard that my teeth were practically chattering.

I turned my face into the crook of my arm, too overwhelmed by his scrutiny when I was so close to detonating again. I never came this fast a second time, even with my vibrator.

I braced, expecting him to stop anytime now. To say he needed to feel me come while he was inside me. Which was code for finally needing to come himself. He’d earned it, and I’d endure dutifully—

Then he stopped sucking on my clit and rose to kiss and caress my breasts. His fingers continued their dual assault inside me. In and out, deep and hard and slow, all at once. A methodical finger-fucking my body had no defense against.

My eyes were shut when his damp mouth slid over mine, making me gasp as he slipped his tongue between my lips. He tasted like me. Smelled like me. And when he bore down, subtly driving his fingers deeper inside me from the weight of his heavy cock against his hand, I let go.

I made sounds. I knew I did. I couldn’t swallow them. This wasn’t my usual quiet-ripple orgasm. This broke through me like a supernova, making me thrash beneath him and suck on his tongue just to get more of myself.

I was a woman gone wild. Drunk on cock I hadn’t even had yet.

I opened my eyes and his face was close. So close. I was staring deep into the warm firelit green of his eyes—but the fire was inside him, not in the room.

I’d gone boneless beneath him as he simply eased me down, sipping from my lips and touching my breasts and my belly and my hips. Reverently exploring and appreciating every bit of me, my curves and everything else in between.

Maybe even the curves most of all.

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