Never Say Forever

Oh, Jesus! The man is good at this.

He reaches up to pinch my nipple, the light brush of his tongue its counterpoint, my body bucking wild against him.

“Yes!” I bring my hands to his thick hair, anchoring myself, as his rough whispers praise and promise, his tongue and fingers just glorious. But this is just the appetiser, it would seem, as he spreads my legs wider and begins to truly devour me.

“Oh, God. I really can’t—yes, like that. Oh, yes! Yes!”

“Give it to me,” he commands, beginning to pressure and flick my clit over and over again. He growls, “Give it up, beautiful.”

My senses are truly heightened. I’m aware of every brush of air against my skin, the sound of my rough breaths and the rasp in his. The cold glass at my back and the hot flick of his tongue, and how the taste of our mutual pleasure seems to permeate the air. I’ve never experienced a high like it as my insides quicken, a white-hot intensity bursting through me, detonating almost at his command.

“Give it to me, beautiful. Come for me. Come on my tongue.”

Oh, God, and I do, my spine an impossible arc as every fibre of my being draws tight before it implodes like a supernova. A starburst of bright lights, oxytocin, and dopamine. Pleasure spiralling outwards in a wave of euphoria.

There is nothing . . . nothing but this utter bliss.

I come to, pardon the pun, collapsed against the sill, my heart thrashing against my ribcage and my thighs trembling as though I’ve just completed a hardcore spinning class.

“I heard that every time a beautiful woman curses, an angel loses its wings and falls from heaven.”

“What?” I look down to where he kneels. My throat is dry, and I swallow, not really able to concentrate on his nonsensical words, not as his lips shine with my wetness, and his tongue gives the bottom one a leisurely swipe. As though he’d like to taste me again.

“Well, my paragon of virtue, I lost count of your curses around the point you said I was a ‘pussy-eating motherfucking superstar’.”

“What?” Is he speaking in tongues? And why do I sound like I’ve just run a marathon?

“You. Profanity. Angel snuff porn.”

“You have a very pretty mouth.” Even if I can barely make sense of what it’s saying.

“A pretty mouth for making out with your pretty and delectable pussy.”

Now that I understood. I bring my legs together as I replay his earlier words, wondering why my legs are still shaking.

I don’t know. Maybe something to do with experiencing the best orgasm of my life?

“The best orgasm of your life?”

I ignore the fact that he somehow heard my thoughts along with the satisfied grin he’s currently wearing.

“It seems a little misogynistic, don’t you think?” I murmur, directing the conversation elsewhere. “That angels only fall out of the sky when women swear.”

“Beautiful women,” he corrects. Standing now, he cups my face as he brings his mouth to mine. It’s a light, teasing kiss, one I taste myself in.

“Damn that original sin.” I clear my throat, wondering why it feels so illicit. How I can be speaking when I feel so overwhelmed.

“I don’t make the rules.” His response echoes through his chest as he draws me into his arms. “But if there’s sin, I’m there for it.”

“You know, I was told angels lost their wings when—” I clamp my lips together. He really doesn’t need to hear that.

“When what?” He holds me away from him by the shoulders, one corner of his mouth quirked in a curious expression.

“When you do . . . something else.”

“I’m intrigued.” His words are a dark whisper in my ear as his hands drift down to cup my behind. An aftershock of pleasure washes through me as the fabric of his pants pleasantly chafes, my nipples drawing hard at the press of his warm skin. “Spill, beautiful.”

“Just something else. Something naughty.” My words hit the air in a rush. Who knew I was a sucker for flattery? Or else this is a case of a good orgasm being like truth serum. Whatever the case is, I’m so pleased it’s too dark for him to see my embarrassment, and I raise my gaze to his, sending up a silent prayer that none of these thoughts have made it past my lips.

That would just be trés awkward.

“Come on, you know you’re gonna have to tell me.” His words are delivered in a low-sounding chuckle and an accompanying solid squeeze of my bum.

“Well.” I sigh with resignation. “According to Sister Edith’s pious, though not particularly informative, health education classes . . .” I wrap my hands around his neck and tip up on my toes to whisper the rest in his ear. And then almost pass out from the feel of his skin on mine. “Every time you touch yourself in sin, an angel loses its wings.” I experience the vibration of his amusement down to the very marrow of my bones.