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Southern Comfort (Southern 2)

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“Where do you want me to devour you at?” I ask her, not giving a shit at this point. “Couch or bed?”

She looks at me. “Anywhere you want, cowboy.” Her words are a whisper, and I think about taking her to the bedroom and laying her in the middle of the bed and feasting on her, but the need to feast on her makes me stop midway, and I place her on the couch. Her dress is hiked up, barely covering her. She watches my every move, and when I get on my knees and pull her legs forward until her ass is on the edge, she falls back a bit. But she gets up on her elbows as she watches me.

“I owe you,” I say, and she just looks at me. “There is no way these panties are going to survive.” I look at the lace panties, and in one move, I rip them off her. I’m face-to-face with her pussy, and I don’t even take a minute to look at her. I can’t; my mouth waters to taste her, and taste her I do. My mouth devours her pussy in one lick. One long, wet lick until I suck in her clit. Her moans are louder than before, and I look up at her as I bite down on her clit, and her legs close around my head. Her taste is addictive, and when she tries to sit up, I slip one of my fingers in her. Her arms give out. “Fuck,” I hiss, turning to kiss her inner thigh and slip another finger into her. “I’m going to spend the rest of the night making you come over and over again.” I don’t even know if she can hear me between her pants and her moans. “Over and over again.” I suck in her clit. “You’re going to come.” I move my fingers just a touch faster. “On my tongue.” I slide my tongue in with my fingers, tasting her on my tongue again, and now it’s my turn to moan. “On my fingers,” I say, moving just a touch faster, and her hips move now while my tongue circles her clit, once and then twice. “And then,” I say, my voice going soft and my fingers stopping. She groans, and her eyes open again this time only halfway. “With my cock,” I say, looking into her eyes, and my thumb moves back and forth on her clit as I finger fuck her until she comes on my fingers.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Olivia

“With my cock.” He looks into my eyes, and I get lost in him. All around me, his touch pushes me to the edge. From the minute he grabbed me in the elevator to the smooth way he got my dress down. His big rugged hands are no match for my flimsy lace panties and the second he touched them they disintegrated. I watch his blue eyes when his thumb starts to move back and forth on my clit as he finger fucks me until it becomes too much, and I come on his fingers. The minute I moan his name, his mouth devours me again. Dragging the orgasm out, my legs lock his head in until my body finally finishes.

I knew it would be out of this world. I knew that it would be nothing like before because I like him. I like him a lot, and this right here just pushed him into another category I wasn’t ready for. But is anyone really ever ready for love? I sit up, and this time, it’s me who grabs his face, and I kiss him. His tongue tastes like me and whiskey, and the more I taste, the more I want to taste more. My hands fall from his face to his chest, a chest I’ve fallen asleep on, a chest that I buried my face in when I cried. A chest that shivers under my touch now. My hands go down to his belt, and I slowly undo it while he tries to talk, but my mouth never leaves his. I slip open the button, and the sound of the zipper going down is drowned out by the moan that escapes him when my palm cups him. He’s rock solid, and when my finger slips past the elastic band and touches the tip of his cock that is oozing precum, he lets go of my mouth.

“Darlin’.” He says my name, and I look at him now.

“You had your fun, cowboy,” I say, slipping down on my knees in front of him. I kiss under his chin and then kiss his neck right where I can feel his heart beating just as fast as mine. My tongue comes out and trails it to his shirt collar. “It’s time to have mine,” I say and bend to see his pants hanging off his hips, his black Calvins pushed down showing you just the tip of his cock. I lean forward and lick the tip, the saltiness hitting my tongue and making me take his head into my mouth. The need to bring him to his knees just as he did me takes over, and my hand comes out to cup his balls as I fist him. My fingers don’t touch as I jack him off at the same time I move my head up and down.


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