Page 62 of Callow

But I just… wasn’t quite done yet.

Not until I at least got a taste.

I’d been fucking dreaming about it for too long not to give into the urge.

Turning, I dropped her onto her back on the mattress, watching her look up at me with those dreamy hazel eyes as my fingers left her. But only long enough to yank at her jeans until they were off.

“Missed that before,” I said, my fingers tracing down a tattoo that took up a good chunk of her thigh and seemed to cover a lot of her ass cheek as well.

She shivered at the touch, reminding me that there would be time for tattoo discussions later.

Right now, I was fucking starving for a taste.

Her panties came down with one quick tug, leaving her bare before me.

Reaching down, I spread her for me.

Then, on a groan, lowered down in front of her.

Her whole body was trembling.

Aftershocks?

Nerves?

Sensitivity?

I had no idea.

All I knew was she damn near shot off the bed at the sensation of my tongue sliding up her pussy toward her clit.

Her back still arching off of the mattress, her hand slapped down on the back of my head, holding me tightly against her. As if I had any intention of moving away until she was shaking and crying out, until her thighs were clamped to the side of my head, riding out her climax.

My fingers slid inside of her, needing to feel her pussy as my tongue worked her clit. Slowly at first, savoring the taste and feel and sounds of her. But her hips rocked restlessly. Little frustrated whimpers escaped her.

So I worked her faster, finding the pace she liked best, and fucking working her at it relentlessly until I had to reach up, slapping a hand over her mouth, silencing her desperate cries as she got closer and closer.

Then, with a hard shudder, she came, her thighs crushing my head, her legs shaking, her moans just barely contained by my hand.

I worked her through it until her body was spent, her legs falling open to release me.

I moved away, kissing down her thigh, back up, over her hips, then down her other thigh.

By the time I made it back to the triangle above her sex, her gaze was clear, those eyes piercing me.

“Up,” she said, tone almost desperate as she folded up to sit. “Get up,” she said, grabbing my shirt and pulling until I stood, confused, worried I’d fucked shit up somehow.

Until I was standing in front of her, and her thighs spread to welcome me between as her hands went to the waistband of my sweatpants and her hungry gaze held mine.

I knew I was supposed to tell her that she didn’t have to.

But, fuck, she looked like she needed to taste me as badly as I’d needed to taste her. Who the fuck was I to deny her that?

She yanked my sweatpants down, finding me bare beneath.

She wasted no time wrapping her hand around my length, stroking me to the base, then leaning down to tease her tongue around the head, dragging a surprisingly loud groan out of me.

My hand slapped down on the back of her neck as she started to slide her lips around me, taking me deep, then starting to work me. Not slow or tentatively. She fucked me with her mouth, hard and fast, twisting, gripping me with one hand where she couldn’t reach, the other hand sliding down to tease my balls as she worked me.

---