Page 64 of Start With A Slap

He felt her navel quiver against him as he lapped up the jam. Some had fallen into her innie, so he went after it with a pointed tongue, making her gasp.

She pulled his head up by the hair. “How do you make eventhatfeel like porn?”

Sever folded his hands on her belly and rested his chin on them. “It’s a gift.”

“I’d like to return it.” She tried hard to suppress a smile, all too pleased with herself for her sparkling wit.

“Oh, would you?” He climbed up her body.

She nodded. “It’s defective.”

Her playfulness made him want to kiss her and laugh with her andfucking cuddle—an urge he’d never felt in hislife—so he quashed that impulse and forced himself stone-cold. “I’m sorry, I don’t take returns,” he said curtly, then he pushed her onto her side, yanking off her robe as he went, until she was on her stomach. Her initial yelp turned to silence, and her entire body hummed with anticipation.

He ran a hand over her lovely bottom. Felt like a ripe plum he wanted to take a bite out of... but he slapped it instead, and the plum wiggled gleefully.

Sever could spank her all day, keep her in thrall, make her forget their flight... but he wasn’t ready to turn her on to true pain.

He wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready.

Where was the jam jar? He found it near her left hip, stuck to the duvet. He upturned it and shook it out onto her Spot. The contents landed with aplop! plop plop.

Midway, she arched her back and turned her head toward him to say, “Oh my god, you did not!”

He pouted teasingly, saying in French, “My pretty little croissant.” Then in English: “Gonna eat you.”

“You better lick every last bit of that off or I will hurt you,” she said.

Not surprisingly, that got him hard. “I love the way you flirt.”

“That’s not flir—ohhh...” She quieted as he smeared it on her lower back, the cleft between her peachy cheeks, and her swollen, sweet, thoroughly fucked cunt. Spreading her apart, he licked a straight line upward, tongue tip pendulating, from her spasming lips, to her twitching asshole, to her tasty, trembling Spot.

Relishing the symphony of her broken-voiced pleasure, he swallowed all but a mouthful of melting jam and held it, sloshing it around while he turned her onto her back, raisedher legs, opened her with two fingers, and spit the jam into her pussy.

“Ew! No! What?” She sat up.

He snickered at her mortification while pulling her by the knees to get her head back on the floor. “Look at you,” he said. “You’re oozing pink strawberry jam.”

“Oozing? Gross.”

That’s what shesaid, but then he murmured, “My little coquette isoooozing,” and it made her labia twitch. So he plowed his tongue inside of her and curled it up at the end.

Her commentary shifted from scorn to delicious agitation. “Oh-hohhhh fu-u-u-uck... Your tongue, I can’t... I can’t... I...”

She uttered some variation of that until she was pinching his ears and bucking into his face, babbling, “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop, oh GOD don’t stop!”

Ahead of schedule.He raised his head.

“What?! Why’d you stop?” She drummed her heels on his back, pointed her pussy at his chin and whined, “I’m so close!”

“Let me get this straight.” He teased her inner thighs. “Youwantmeto make youcomejustone more?—”

“Yes! Okay? Please! Please, one more, just...” She scrunched her pretty face, not wanting to say it: “I’m begging.”

He savored that for a moment. “I love the way you prove me right.”

She growled with impatience and demanded, voice cracking, “I fucking said it! Put your tongue back in me already!”

Well, if she insisted...

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