A Dash of Spice (Lights Camera Insta-love 2)

She laughs at my dumb joke and pleasure expands my chest. “Only for hockey?”

“Nah, baby. For my sanity.” I push her thighs apart and knuckle the crotch of her mint green panties, finding them damp. “Christ, the thought of sinking my meat into this…” I use my forearm to push her dress higher, up around her waist. “Can I see it?”

“See what?”

“That sexy, little pussy. Let Aiden have a look.”

“God, you’re so blunt,” she admonishes me, but she’s breathing heavily, her perky tits heaving up and down, close enough that I could suck them through the material of her dress. Yeah, she can make whatever complaints she wants out loud, but I know she doesn’t mind this filthy mouth of mine. Not one bit.

I hear a set of footsteps approaching the room and throw a cloth napkin over her lap. “Open the champagne and leave us,” I direct the waiter, who does as I ask without hesitation, leaving the open bottle in a silver bucket beside the table before leaving again. I uncover her once more, tossing the napkin aside and splaying my hand over her stomach. “Tell me yes.”

Lola’s head lolls back, her lips parted and panting. “Okay, fine. For hockey.”

Needing to get my eyes on her female flesh, I drag the panties down her thighs, knees and calves, dropping them onto the table. A groan wracks my body at the sight that greets me. A tight, pale cunt with a little strip of red hair running down the middle—and it’s mine, all mine, all mine. Nothing has ever been more perfect or tempting. It’s wet, smooth and smells like sugar-sweet heaven. Sweat forms on my upper lip and forehead, precome squirting from the head of my prick and dampening the fly of my pants. There’s a twist deep, deep in my belly, but it’s not just my system begging for relief, it’s something male and prideful, ordering me to serve and pleasure my woman.

Abruptly, I stand and deposit her in the chair where I was sitting. “I’ve gotta lick it, baby. Now.”

She gasps when I fall to my knees before her. “Wait. What?”

With her knees grasped in my hands, I lean in, smiling against her pussy. “For hockey, right?”

Her giggle turns into a whimper when I part her pussy lips gently with my tongue, easing my way into her wet folds. Delicious nectar sluices over my taste buds and rouses something animalistic inside of me. I’m suddenly sick and her taste is the cure. The only thing that can make me whole. I glide my tongue up and down through her smooth flesh and encounter a little bud near the top. When I nudge it with my upper lip, she whines my name and clutches the arms of the chair, opening her thighs wider—and I know I’ve found that important spot. Her clitoris, I think it’s called. I’m always hearing jokes in the locker room about how it doesn’t really exist, but it does. I’ve discovered the proof. And intuition tells me this little, pink berry being stroked is what rings her bell.

Now that I have a game plan, I commit. I toss her legs over my shoulders and press my mouth flush to her core, flattening my tongue on top of her nub and massaging it roughly.

Lola’s fingers spear into my hair, her heels digging into my upper back. “Aiden. Aiden. Oh my God. Don’t stop what you’re doing.”

I’m desperate to get close as possible to her sweetness. I want to devour her perfect, creamy little sex. In my efforts to work my tongue against her spot as thoroughly as possible, the chair legs begin to scrape on the floor, away from me, but I drag it back with a growl. I spit on her pussy and scrape my teeth up the inside of her right thigh, lust burning me from the inside.

I reach up and yank her hips to the very edge of the seat, rubbing my face in the soft, drenched flesh of her cunt. The tip of my tongue finds her fuck hole and wiggles against it, pressing in slightly and making her lower half jerk off the chair.

“Aiden,” she sobs, pulling my face closer. “Please.”

“I’m going to bring this home and fuck it,” I grit out, my mouth buried between the folds of her pussy. “Going to make it Daddy’s and overflow it with come. Going to ride it on the floor, in my bed, wherever the fuck I want. Going to treat it like a good, little princess or a naughty, little whore—and you’re going to love it, no matter what.”

“Yes.” Her belly hollows and shudders, her hands yanking frantically at my hair. “Yes.”

Triumph rocks me and I find her clit once more, batting it with the tip of my tongue before pressing down on that nub, sliding my middle finger into her fuck hole at the same time, jiggling, jiggling—and she pops off like a cork from a bottle.