The Husband Game

It sounds like something any girl would want. Who wouldn’t want to marry a man like this, a man who—

Oh, fuck. A man who knows how to use his tongue.

He licks up my inner thigh now, leaving a smooth, hot trail along my skin. My eyelids flutter shut, and I let out a sharp breath, as his hands part my thighs wider, his mouth inching higher, closer to the ache between my legs. Fuck, I am already soaked, I can tell even before his mouth brushes against my panties.

He chuckles and licks the outside of my panties, before he tips his head back, his chin resting against my thigh, to peer up at me. “Someone’s been looking forward to this.”

“Someone was teasing me all night long,” I reply in a low voice. “What can I say? You make me wet as hell, Charlie Cross.”

“Mm. I’d apologize, but… I’m not sorry.” With that, he catches the thin fabric of my panties between his teeth and pulls them down, using only his mouth for leverage. I gasp as they peel free of my body and fall to my knees. But he doesn’t give me time to get cold in the night air, or to be distracted by anything else.

A moment later, his mouth returns to my mound, his lips searing hot against my smooth skin. His hands grip my ass, part my thighs wider, and then his tongue slides between my legs to trace along the outer lips of my pussy, hot and wet and so damn sexy it makes the pressure start to build behind my belly already.

I tighten my grip on his hair, trembling, unable to look anywhere but down at the man in front of me.

His eyes, for his part, stay fixed on me too, like he’s enjoying watching me. Seeing how quickly he can make me come unraveled.

Pretty fucking quickly, I should think, if last night was any indication.

He presses his tongue into my slit, tasting the juices there, lapping at me like I’m the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted. He grins, then, and draws back just far enough to whisper. “I missed the way you taste on my tongue.”

Fuck.

“This… isn’t fair, you know,” I manage, between gritted teeth, as he returns to his ministrations. The long, slow lap of his tongue drives me fucking wild, as he starts to lick back and forth along my slit in slow, steady motions.

“I don’t think I ever agreed to play fair,” he says, before his tongue reaches my entrance, swirls around it for a moment, and then plunges inside me.

I can’t help it. I can’t hold it in any longer. I let out a faint cry of pleasure, my head tipping back against the stone wall behind me. Upstairs, somewhere in the hotel, lights flick on in one of the rooms. But I can’t bring myself to care. I can’t do anything to stop this, the way Charlie’s mouth feels against my pussy as he tongues me, eating me out. I can’t stop him now, not when my toes are curling inside my shoes and my heart hitches in my throat, and my pulse is going so hard and so fast it’s a wonder all the blood in my body hasn’t rushed straight to my head. Or maybe down to my core.

Every nerve ending in my body feels white hot, poised to fire off at any second. And still, Charlie keeps going, lashing me with his tongue, pushing it inside me and pulling it back out again over and over. He curls the tip as he goes, dragging it along my inner walls, grazing over that sensitive as hell G-spot that he knows exactly how to find every time.

And fuck. It doesn’t take long before I’m poised right up on the edge, every muscle taut with desire.

“Charlie…” I breathe, and then louder, because he didn’t hear me, and I’m not even sure I said it out loud the first time, that’s how far from this plane I am. “Charlie, fuck, I… I’m going to…”

He pauses just long enough to look up at me, those eyes of his white hot, filled with the kind of lust that makes my own redouble. “Come for me,” he breathes, and then his tongue plunges into me again, grazing that G-spot once more, merciless, relentless.

“Fuck,” I groan. Then louder. “Fuckkkk,” my voice trailing off, echoing around the courtyard, bouncing off the stone walls, reverberating.

More lights flick on. It takes me a while to notice, because at first, I mistake them for the spots dancing across my vision, the multicolor sparks I see thanks to coming so fucking hard. But when I blink a few times and those new lights remain, I realize…

“Shit. Charlie.”

He’s still tonguing me gently, lapping up my juices, and they’ve spilled over his mouth, into his stubble, and it makes me want to drop to my knees right now and lick his mouth clean, taste myself on his lips. But I can’t, because…