He drops back onto his knees and spreads my legs. He runs his finger along my folds, teasing and playing. I want to yell that adults don’t play with their damn food and to eat me already, but then his tongue lands on me and the back of my head hits the mirror as my eyes roll upward.
He pushes my thighs wider, and his wet tongue runs up my center, lapping at my juices, until he gets to my clit. Then all his attention stays on it, licking, laving, flicking my clit, until my climax overtakes me. My legs shake and my overly sensitive clit throbs, but Easton doesn’t stop until I’ve come completely undone.
“I knew it,” he says, standing. “I knew I remembered you tasting this fucking good.” His mouth brushes against mine for a quick kiss. No tongue is used, but I can still taste myself on his lips. When he pulls back, he’s grinning. “Good, right?”
“Eh.” I quirk my head to the side. “It’s okay… But I’m strictly dickly if you catch my drift.” I wink flirtatiously, and he barks out a laugh.
“My turn.” I push him back and hop off the dresser, dropping to my knees. I quickly unbutton his jeans and tug them, along with his boxer briefs, down his legs. His dick springs forward, and I take a moment to appreciate it. It’s long and thick and neatly trimmed.
Unable to wait a second longer, I lift his dick, so it’s lying flat against his belly, and run my tongue along the underside of his shaft until I get to the mushroom head. I do that again and again, licking him like my own personal ice cream cone. When he’s hard as steel, I flick my tongue across the tip, tasting the precum, then take him all the way into my mouth.
“Jesus,” Easton breathes, pulling me up and forcing me to release his dick.
When the corners of my lips dip down, he chuckles. “Sorry, but when I come, it won’t be in your mouth.”
He lifts and carries me to my bed, laying me on the mattress. He shucks his pants off and removes his shirt, exposing his toned body. As he climbs up the bed, I admire his fit physique appreciatively. He kicks my legs apart and situates himself between my thighs. “For weeks after we were together, I was thinking about you,” he admits. “Trying to figure out ways to find you.” His muscular arms drop onto either side of my head, caging me in, while he supports his own weight.
He kisses the tip of my nose. “I was only with you one time and you had me addicted.” Our lips touch, and he thrusts into me. We both groan as he fills me completely.
“This is the way it should’ve been,” he murmurs, withdrawing and then driving back inside. His body moving against mine in a slow, delicious rhythm.
“What?” I breathe, closing my eyes. Another orgasm is building, and every time he swivels his hips, my body tightens around him.
“The first time we were together,” he says, “I should’ve taken my time…” He kisses the sensitive spot under my ear, and my body winds a little tighter in response.
“Explored every inch of you.” He suckles on my neck, and I clench in anticipation. I’m hovering over the precipice and it won’t be long until I fall.
“Tasted every part of you.” In the same intimate way our bodies are connected, his mouth connects with mine, and like a rubber band wound too tightly, I snap and fall over the edge, screaming out my orgasm as it rushes through me. Thankfully Easton kisses me, muffling the sound. He picks up his speed, fucking me deeper, harder, and all too soon he’s following me over that delicious edge.
“Stay the night,” I say, once we’ve both gotten a handle on our breathing.
He pulls out of me and plants a soft kiss to my lips. “I’m not going anywhere.”
And maybe it’s the orgasm that has my head all fucked up, but for some reason, I believe him.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
SOPHIA
“Hey, Soph, can you grab me a bottle of Don Perignon?” Michelle asks, walking around the bar to grab some glasses and a bucket of ice.
“Did you input it?”
“Yeah.”
I glance over at the printer and see an order hanging out. “Got it.”
I check to make sure Clarissa is manning the bar before I run to the back to grab the chilled bottle. I ring it up on Michelle’s tab, then hand it to her.
“Thanks!” she says, placing it into the bucket, then taking it over to her table.
“What does a man need to do to get a little service around here?” a masculine voice asks.
I snap my head to the side and see Easton sitting at the bar with a sexy smirk splayed across his face. He’s been here both nights I’ve worked this week, showing up around an hour or so before closing. The first night I got defensive, thinking he was either going to judge or berate me, but he did neither. Instead, he ordered a drink, hung out, chatted with me when I had time to chat, then after I was done closing down the bar, he took me home and spent the night with me.