This is the guy who I’d made blush. Twice. “You’re in way over your head with me, Dom.”
“Says the woman who doesn’t like kissing, or talking, and I’ve gotten you to do both in less than fifteen minutes.”
My eyes widened.
“Yeah,” he said as he increased the speed of his thrusts, his fingers pumping in and out of me. “I think I’m doing all right.”
He was doing better than all right. “Fuck, you’re going to make me come.”
The corners of his mouth lifted in a wicked smile. “What will that taste like?”
What–? He dropped down to his knees, bringing his head level with the table.
“Oh, god, yes. Taste it,” I begged. The sight of his head positioned between my thighs nearly brought me to orgasm.
“Scoot back and I will,” the rough voice said.
I did immediately. Warm breath hovered over my pussy. My muscles tightened in hungry anticipation for his tongue, and then . . .
Flames licked at me where his tongue did. I jolted up onto my bent elbows, but threw my head back as a startled moan tore from my mouth.
“Oh, god, Dom. Fuck me with that mouth.”
It hadn’t been like this. Not ever. Sometimes a guy liked eating pussy, but that was always for him. I’d put on a show, pretend he was much better than he was until I faked an orgasm and he got excited thinking he’d gotten me off. The sensation now was different. Dom wanted to please me. Not because he wanted to show off his sexual prowess; I think he simply wanted me to enjoy it.
“Are you going to come for me?”
“Yes, yes . . .”
Fingers filled and stretched me, plunging and retreating. The wicked rhythm grew the intensity in my center, and that tongue— It was magic. Pinpricks needled up my spine and my legs shook. I panted for air. I writhed against the mouth sucking and fucking me, his tongue fluttering at a furious tempo.
“Fuck, fuck!”
The orgasm seized me and I screamed. Pleasure exploded outward in all directions, sending warm bliss rushing through every cell of my body, and leaving pleasant numbness in its wake. My hands had jerked his head hard up against me, and I relaxed the grip as the pleasure began to fade.
His voice rang out between my punctuated gasps for breath. “It tastes good.”
I shuddered. I loved hearing that, but I wondered . . . “Fake?”
He chuckled. “Real.” What reason would he have to lie? He had thirty thousand excuses to be honest. His fingers remained inside me. They’d slowed but were still moving. “Tell me something you’ve never told anyone else.”
I struggled to catch my breath and searched for something to satisfy his request.
“My favorite movie is Airplane.”
The hand stopped moving, and I made a noise of disappointment. He’d probably wanted something deeper than my admission that my favorite movie was a ‘70s slapstick comedy.
“Surely you can’t be serious,” he rumbled.
I smiled like an idiot, thrilled he knew the joke. “I am serious, and don’t call me Shirley.” The hand resumed its disciplined pace and he climbed to his feet, his other hand wiping his mouth and latching on to my hip.
He was utterly gorgeous and I couldn’t wait to get on him, but reminded myself he wanted to go slow. After that orgasm, the least I could do was give him his money’s worth.
“Now you,” I said. “Something you’ve never told anyone else before.”
“My favorite movie’s Airplane.”
I curled my eyes down into slits. “Fake?”