Page 43 of Untether

‘Uh, yes,’ she pants out, her desire warring with what’s clearly an unease with advocating for her needs.

I’ll soon fuck the latter out of her.

‘That’s lucky,’ I tell her, ‘because I’ve been wanting to spread you out, and taste you, and suck on your clit very badly indeed since you walked into my club in those red fucking leather shorts, and in a lower-key way for a long, long time, baby.’

Without further preamble, I push two fingers hard inside her and seal my thumb to her clit. It’s a good thing I’m holding her down with my other hand, because she practically shoots off the bed.

‘Fucking hell,’ I say. ‘No lube needed here. You are fucking drenched, my darling. Have you been lying here this whole time, getting wetter and wetter and just waiting for my hands?’

‘Yeah,’ she moans.

‘Damn right you have.’ I release her clit and crook my fingers inside her, and she inhales sharply.

‘Jesus, Cal.’

‘Jesus is right. Right now I’m your saviour. I’m here tobring you back to life, you know? Because no one, and I mean no one’—I bend and press a kiss to her inner thigh—‘is allowed to let you feel like you’re anything other than the glorious, sexy as fuck,sexualbeing you are.’

I can’t hold off anymore. With my head bent, I can smell the unmistakable musk of her need. I need to bury my face right there.

In nirvana.

‘Hold on,’ I grunt, moving to the table. ‘Shuffle down a bit.’ I preempt this by grabbing her under her thighs and pulling her down a few inches by the arse so I can go to town on her more easily.

‘Oh, baby,’ I say, both hands massaging her oil-slicked tits before I drag them south and spread her thighs. I hold her like that, wide open and glistening just for me, before I lower my head to sample her.

Fuck. I love eating pussy. I love everything about it. Love how filthy it feels to bury my nose and mouth in a warm, wet cunt. How carnal. I love the power it gives me. Love how mutually beneficial it is—how wet and wanton it gets the women I tend to and how hard it gets me.

But let’s face it. Most of the women I eat are Alchemy regulars: beautiful creatures who know what they want and shove their pussies in my face and rub them against my tongue. They’re old hands.

This is different. Aida is different. There’s no doubt she wants this—badly—but she’s fragile. This is a very conscious act for her. It’s a big fucking deal for her and a big responsibility for me, and the sense of wonder I feel that it’s me she’s entrusted to do this washes over me afresh as I bend my head, and breathe in her scent, and run my tongue upwards from her entrance to her clit in the longest, roughest lick I can give her.

28

AIDA

The moment his mouth connects with my flesh, I’m done for. Gone. I arch right into that strong hand. The one that’s splayed across my stomach, holding me down protectively.

Like he knew I’d be at risk of falling off the fucking table and he preempted me.

As his tongue hits my pussy, he makes this earthy kind of groan that’s just somale. My erudite, well-bred husband was many things, but he wasn’t the animal I would’ve liked. Not with me, anyway.

But Cal sounds unleashed. And I fucking love it. It’s a selfish sound, a carnal one, like right now he’s looking after his own needs as much as mine, and it gets me even hotter. God knows, this guy is good at working women up. And when he touched me at that club it was incredible. But being alone with him? Being spread out for him, blindfolded and naked and wanton and willing for him to do absolutely anything he wants right now?

It’s the hottest experience of my life. This guy is a prophet, it seems, because he was right. Massaging me,having him touch me and stroke me and loosen me up like this, was the most sensual, pleasurable experience I could have asked for. The sensation of his huge hands roaming over my skin was almost worshipful. It seems like he enjoyed it too—I hope he did—but right now I’m so far gone I don’t give a fuck.

‘Mmm,’ he says, voice muffled, the sound vibrating against my flesh. ‘Fuck. God, that’s good.’

I wish I could see him. Wish I could watch as that dark head of hair dips between my legs and samples me. Wish I could see his fingers white-knuckling my thighs. His tongue sweeping through my centre.

But I can’t, and whatever I’m missing out on in terms of otherworldly visuals, I’m making up for in sensation, my lack of sight ratcheting up the intensity of his touch.

And then he really begins to eat me.

He licks me from my entrance to my clit one more time before my legs are forced even further apart, like he would climb inside my body if he could.

‘Hold it like that,’ he orders, before releasing one leg. He’s got the other one pried open against the forearm of the hand he’s holding me down with. A second later, two of his thick fingers are shoving back in inside my pussy so hard that my body doesn’t know whether to brace or celebrate. All I know is I feel full and invaded and it’s fucking amazing. Then his tongue is back on me, but this time it’s right where I need it.

Right on my clit.

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