Getting Her Back
“And while we’re on the subject,” he says, “we both agree that it’s my job to get you pregnant?”
“Yeah,” I say.
He nods. “Good. Then if it’s my job to get you pregnant, then when we’re together, you’re going to do what I say.”
My mouth drops open. “What did you just say?”
“I’m going to fuck you until there’s a baby in your belly, and you’re going to do what I tell you. Position, time, place.”
“Remember when I said that we’re not a couple? I’m not going to just drop everything for you.”
He gets as close to my lips as he can without kissing me, and I can feel his breath on my skin. “No, you’re not going to drop everything for me. You’re going to drop everything for your baby.”
Shit. There is no argument against that and he knows it. And besides, I don’t feel properly equipped to debate him about this when I’m naked underneath him. “Okay.”
“Good girl.”
“Call me a good girl again,” I say, “and I don’t care if you get me pregnant or not, I will knee you in the balls.”
He’s laughing as he slides down my body again, and still laughing as he pushes my legs apart.
I have a sudden burst of anxiety. Will he like me the same? Will we be as compatible as we once were? I shouldn’t really be worrying about that right now, but I am.
He blows on my pussy. I’m so wet that it makes me shiver. “I think it does remember me,” he says.
“Fuck you,” I mutter.
Christian chuckles again as he puts his mouth on me and, oh. My. God.
I’d forgotten what that felt like. Like pleasure and heaven and everything that’s good in the world wrapped up in one sensation. Christian has a talented tongue, and it slides across my skin swirling around my clit, moving down to dip inside before tracing shapes over my pussy and moving back up. I could probably come right this second, but like hell I’m going to tell Christian that. Not that I have to. I’m soaking wet and I’m guessing that he already knows.
“Mmm. You taste just like I remember,” he says. He licks into me again, and I gasp. I don’t know how to feel. Pleasure is running through me, and yet I’m conflicted about it.
He slides his tongue down again, slipping it into my pussy. Deeper, and deeper, curling it up back until it just barely brushes my G spot. Christian has a long tongue, and God am I grateful for that. He strokes inside me, licking and lifting and fucking me with his tongue. Every motion makes my hips rise against his mouth, my body begging for more. I can’t control it, it’s too good, and I want it. I want all of it.
“They should serve you on a plate,” he says. “The best dessert there is.” And then he seals his mouth over my clit and sucks me deep. I can’t stop the sound that comes out of my throat, low and guttural and filled with need. Christian homes against my clit and it just makes it all worse, or better, I don’t know which.
He swirls his tongue across me over and over setting up a dangerous rhythm that’s taking me higher and closer to orgasm with every second. He grabs my hips, holding me still so I can’t squirm. That tiny bit of restraint only adds to the pleasure. I have no outlet for my sensation and am forced to feel it, waves of pleasure rising from my core higher, and higher. I’m going to drown in it.
I’m overcome with memory. Déjà vu. Christian wanted to prove to me that his oral skills were better than any man that I’d ever had, so he set a goal for himself to make me scream so loud that the neighbors would complain.
He kept his promise too, hours and hours with his head between my thighs until I was dizzy and drowning in pleasure and far enough gone that the barest touch of his tongue would make me moan. He never got tired, and he never stopped. All night, until I came so loudly there was a bang on the door. The woman from downstairs, frustrated and angry that she couldn’t sleep, and probably that her husband wasn’t doing the same to her. He walked around with a self-satisfied grin on his face for a week.
I don’t know if it’s because it’s been so long since we’ve been together or if he’s just that good, but it feels like that. Round and round and round his tongue goes on my clit, sending streaks of pure pleasure through my gut and into my nerves. I can’t see anything, and it feels like I can’t breathe. Nothing but the sheer pleasure of his mouth on me. I’m at the edge, about to go over, but I’m not quite there. And damn him, Christian knows me too well. He knows how to keep me in on this precipice for as long as he pleases.