I lick her all over and eat her magical sweeter-than-any-cake and better-than-cotton-candy pussy. I can feel Lindy’s muscles tightening around me, her legs shaking, and her belly trembling. I want her to let go, and I want her to come on my tongue and ride out her orgasm on my face. But I don’t say the words because right as I think them, it happens.
I swirl my tongue over her clit, nipping her gently. Then, I suckle the hard bud into my mouth, and she’s gone. Her hips are bucking, she’s arching almost entirely off the island, and her muscles are straining, tensing, and shuddering. She’s gasping, begging, and whimpering my name so softly again, over and over, drawing it out until it’s my name, but not just my name. It’s my name times ten—not ten times but ten times the sexiness.
I can feel the waves of pleasure rocking her, so I bend my head and lap her up as she comes, wanting to taste every single bit of her pleasure. I keep eating her until she plants a hand on my forehead and pushes me away just a little. She’s breathing hard, and her whole body is shaking. I think my whole body is shaking, too, because that was probably singlehandedly one of the most tremendous experiences of my lifetime.
“Can I still eat cake off of you?” I pant.
“Maybe,” she pants back.
“Can I eat your pussy again?”
“Good lord.”
“I would. I’d eat it another twenty-seven times if you’d like. In any position. With a side of some cake, you, and also with a side of your foot, fingers, and boobs. Yes, I’d really like to eat them too. I’m sorry I left them out of the action.”
When I look up, Lindy is smiling softly at me, but it’s already a strange, sad kind of smile that says she’s done and will be leaving because this can’t go any further. My heart freezes in my chest, and it’s far, far more than just my dick that’s disappointed. My chest hurts because it’s where Lindy’s soft and slightly sad smile hits me. Straight in my chest.
CHAPTER 11
Kirian
“Thank you for showing me that this can be wonderful. That it can be special and not bad just because the lights aren’t off,” Lindy says as she softly combs through the strands of my hair with real affection. But then, her hand suddenly shifts away from my hair, and she removes it altogether, making me feel barren. She sits up slowly and rearranges her legs, pressing them together before pushing her hands between them. I back up a pace and look up at her.
“Um, you’re welcome. I…I hope you know that…that it was special…for me too.” Wow. Smooth.
Lindy doesn’t seem to mind that I sound like a total fool because she’s not done. I slowly get to my feet because I sense she has something important to say, and I want her to be able to say it. I want to hear her out, even if she’s trying to tell me goodbye.
I still hope there’s hope, and maybe it’s a hope against hope, but I’ll take any and all hope that I can talk her out of it, out of leaving—of leaving and staying gone. It’s not just because I want to keep doing this, more of this—the physical stuff. I mean, I do, but that’s not all there is. That’s definitely not all.
Lindy’s eyes still sparkle, but they look sadder and sadder with every passing second. “Thank you for proving what my therapist has told me, which is that I deserve to feel good. Thank you for showing me that I didn’t do anything wrong, and I don’t have to feel guilty. That I…that this can be beautiful and…yeah, just that it’s not wrong. Not with you, not with the right person.” She catches herself and shoves the back of her hand over her mouth so hard that she’s probably munching on her knuckles. “Not that you’re the right person. Not that…not that we’re…” She then waves her hand back and forth, a rapid flutter that shows she means to encompass the both of us.
I’m not panicking about that, about what she said. And how it felt for us to do this together, because she’s right, it was terrific, every second of it. It did feel right.
But what I am is angry. I’m consumed with a rage I’ve never felt before. I thought I knew what it was like to be angry, but this murderous feeling sweeping over me, tightening my throat, and erupting in my gut is something different. There’s something madly protective tearing at me, an instinct I’ve never known, but it’s coming on so strong right now that it feels more animal than human.
“Did someone hurt you?” Because I swear, if they did, I’ll find them and tear them limb from blood fucking limb, and I’ll do it good and slow because that’s the only way to tear someone limb from limb. If they deserve to be torn apart, then they deserve to have it bloody well hurt.