Bad Cruz

He used his thumbs to pry me open, then licked me from my butt crack to my clit. I let out a happy sigh, holding onto his head and making sure he didn’t go anywhere.

I watched acutely as he began licking me there, enjoying every drop of my arousal, making noises as he used my desire to coat my clit and suck on it.

That was when I began suspecting I was going to faint. The pleasure was so intense, so heightened, every muscle in my body clenched in expectation of what was about to come (pardon the pun).

“You’re so tight.” Cruz used his index and middle fingers to penetrate me while he worked on my clit.

Well, I practically am a virgin, if you disregard the day Bear was conceived!

Luckily, even though I was drunk, I still had some basic verbal filters in place.

My orgasm felt different to all the ones I gave myself. I knew that before it even hit me.

First, because I couldn’t control my limbs at all. They basically turned to that thing that happens to your Frappuccino after you leave it in the sun for half a day.

Second, because I arched and arrowed like I was ready to shoot myself straight into another continent.

Third, because the wave of shivers rolling over me drowned me to the outside world, and for a moment, it was just me, sailing on a cloud.

Best.

Climax.

Ever.

The cloud popped under me and brought me back to planet Earth when the musky scent of my sex invaded my lips as Cruz kissed me, fumbling with his belt to set his willy free.

That’s when I pushed him away, shaking my head violently.

“No. No way. No way.”

“Why not? Are you okay?”

He stood in front of me, panting, his hand still on his buckle. His chest rose and fell to the rhythm of his heartbeat. His hair was a mess—my doing. I loved that his lips were red and swollen from pleasuring me.

…but not enough to screw up my life and officially become Fairhope’s running joke. “I’m okay…”

“I’m clear.” He pointed at himself. “I make it a point to check every three months.”

“I’m not on the pill.”

“I’ll pull out.”

I gave him a double-gross look, pushing my dress down. It was hard to be taken seriously when my vag was still making eye contact with his erection through his jeans.

“Are you kidding me? That’s the one thing they warned us about in sex ed. And I didn’t listen. Spoiler alert: the pull-out method is not a bulletproof plan!”

“Actually,” Cruz’s mouth pulled into a devilish smirk, “if withdrawal is done correctly, the pull-out method is ninety-six percent effective. Not that I’ve been testing it on anyone else.”

“Yeah, well, you won’t be testing it on me, either.” I gave him another push, feeling sober all of a sudden. “I don’t do sex, mister.”

“You mean, in general or with me?”

“I mean in general. Can’t take any chances.”

A low, gravelly chuckle escaped him. “Never.” His smile was perfect, his straight, white teeth gleaming.

“Never.”