STRIPPED (The Slate Brothers 3)

I’m about to beg for him to continue when he kisses my pussy, this time not just with his tongue, but with his lips. He presses them against the heat between my legs, and then slides his tongue against my pussy, pushing through my lips until I feel his tongue sliding into me. I moan and instinctively grab at his head, fisting his hair in my hands. Tyson growls, and begins pulse his tongue into me, fucking me with it; I lift my hips higher. I want more.

Tyson grabs my ass to steady my against his mouth, and then moves up, abandoning my entrance entirely. He uses his mouth to spread my lips apart, and then his tongue lands firmly on my clit. I scream— truly scream— in surprise and pleasure and need. Tyson is unrelenting, and he begins to suck my clit lightly, varying the speed and intensity so there’s no getting used to the sensation. I look down as I contort with arousal, and see that Tyson’s eyes are on my face— he’s studying the effect he has on me, admiring his own handiwork as I sweat and moan and fumble for words.

“Tyson,” I pant, the word little more than a breath.

He doesn’t answer— he can’t, not with his mouth buried against me. He does, however, shift so that he’s supporting my hips with a single hand. He then reaches up and, mouth still sucking on my clit, slides a finger into my pussy. I cry out in delight as he begins to rub my interior, stroking my front wall with hard, fast motions. His fingers are in me, a man is in me, if only his finger, and I’m going to orgasm like this. I try to warn Tyson that he’s sending me over the edge, but I’ve lost the ability to form words. The world goes sparkly, then dark, as a powerful rush sweeps over me and I moan loud and long, clenching his hair, pushing his mouth tighter to me, gripping his fingers with my pussy. He finger fucks me through the orgasm, and keeps my clit in his mouth the whole while, licking it lightly each time I start to come back to reality.

When I finally crash back to earth, my limbs are week and my vision is blurred. I’ve never orgasmed like that before, neither in length or intensity, and I find myself curling over to one side to catch my breath. Tyson sits back on his knees, rubbing my ass and hip gently.

“That’s right,” he says. “You did perfectly, Anna.”

“I didn’t do anything— you did it all,” I murmur into my pillow.

“You let me have you,” he reminds me. “And you’re going to do it again.”

“What?” I ask, blinking. I orgasmed once already— I’ve never even made myself come twice in one night. I bite my lip, shake my head, wondering how I can explain this.

“Shhh…” he says, then slides his hand down the side of my ass. He keeps his eyes on my face as he penetrates me with one finger, then uses his thumb to massage my sore and swollen clit. I moan again, and he smiles. “See? We’re just getting started. Sit up, Anna.”

I struggle to do so— my limbs still feel like Jello— but after a moment I’m on my knees on the bed. I don’t know what to expect, I know I wasn’t expecting Tyson to lie down beside me. I tremble when he steadies me with one hand, then uses the other to urge me to swing a leg over his shoulders. I’m straddling his face, looking down at him, shivering with pleasure at his breath against my pussy.

“When you orgasm this time, Anna,” he says, letting his lips brush against my clit as he speaks, “I’m going to pull you forward, so I can finger your ass while you come.”

“Tyson,” I beg, shaking my head.

“Not hard. Not deep. But I’m going to, Anna, and you’re going to enjoy it,” he says sternly, and I bite my lip, then nod. Tyson looks satisfied, then reaches up and pulls my hips to his face, sinking his tongue into my pussy, lapping at me with expert precision and animal-like hunger.

He does exactly as promised— when I come, he pitches me forward, sucking my clit hard and rough as I moan. Before I remember his promise, he’s thrust his thumb into my pussy and slid another finger around to my asshole, pressing ever so slightly until he gains the smallest amount of access. I cry out like a wild thing, needy and desperate as my heart and nerves and body and mind explode with pleasure.

And just like he said I would, I enjoy every second of it— and then I beg for more.

Chapter 8

I feel exhausted, my body weak and tender by the time Tyson allows me to rest and curls me up into his arms. He barely seems winded, but it’s clear he’s pleased by how worn out I am. It’s seven o’clock in the morning, and the sun is starting to rise. I’m not going to my morning class, obviously, because I can’t imagine I’ll be able to stay conscious for the whole thing. Tyson strokes my hair, runs his fingers up and down my arms, studying me, keeping me in that state of blissful surrender. He can look at me however he wants, touch me however he wants— this, I now understand, is what he meant when he said he had to “have” me. He has me. He hasn’t even fucked me, but he has me.