Page 82 of Mr. Swoony

“It’s time we cross something off your list, don’t you think?”

“What if I don’t…” I voice my worry because I don’t want Conor to think that if I can’t come, it means I didn’t enjoy it. No matter what, I know I’m going to love Conor’s mouth on me. But I’m usually just too in my head to relax enough to climax.

“Then I’ll do it again. And you’ll tell me what works and what doesn’t.” I open my mouth, but he shakes his head. “I’ll sit here on my knees and have a twelve-course meal if I have to, but I’m not leaving this room until you come on my tongue, Eloise.”

I nod, tension still present in my muscles from the pressure of feeling like I have to come. How many times did I lie on the bed with Tristan and wish I could orgasm? How many times did I pretend I did? I don’t want that to be my first experience with Conor.

He inches forward, his tongue following the same path his finger just did. His fingers flex on my ass, and he tugs me closer, his mouth ravenous as though his last thread of restraint has broken, and he can no longer take his time.

Conor groans in approval against my heated flesh as his mouth devours me. Slowly, the tension in my legs fades away until I’m no longer having to suppress the urge to close them. After a minute or two, it becomes impossible not to greedily grind against his tongue. My core heats, and I clench the bedspread, trying not to fall back onto the mattress, because watching Conor take small peeks up at me, gauging my enjoyment, is a show in and of itself.

The strokes of his tongue become more urgent, more consuming, and suddenly I’m not thinking about whether or not I can finish, but about how long I can keep Conor between my legs. The tip of his finger plays with my entrance while his tongue circles my clit.

“Oh, god,” I pant, my hands threading through his dark strands.

He doesn’t try to look at me, but he thrusts his finger inside me and sucks my clit simultaneously as I writhe under him. He doesn’t relent, continuing his rhythm and pushing another finger inside me. I buck and tighten my hand in his hair, but Conor doesn’t even seem to notice.

He’s feasting on me like a man possessed, like a man who can’t get enough, and seeing him enjoy this as much as I am shoves me to the edge of the precipice. I’ve never felt this kind of anticipation before. I see now how people become addicted to this feeling, this adrenaline from what’s coming.

He slows his pace a bit and curls his fingers, reaching a spot inside me that no one has before, and my hips rock upward of their own volition.

“Conor!” It’s a plea for more and a warning that the feeling is almost too intense for me to handle all in one.

He removes his mouth from me, watching. “Fuck, Eloise. I’m going to be addicted to your taste from here on out. I hope you’re enjoying this because I’m going to have a hard time not having my face between your legs every time we’re together.”

I whimper, and he doesn’t wait for me to say anything, swirling his tongue around my clit and continuing a slow in and out motion with his fingers.

“I can’t hold on.” I arch my back, unable to stay still. “Oh shit.”

My fists clench the bedspread, and I press my ass to the bed, trying to stay in place. I don’t want this to end.

He peeks up to watch me, feeling me hitting the edge. Seeing his gorgeous caramel eyes staring into mine with so much desire and approval undoes me. Every muscle in my body clenches, and I come on a scream, bucking against him.

My eyes slide shut from the euphoria filling every cell of my body. The bedspread slides out of my grip, and my back falls to the mattress as I pant, trying to catch my breath.

Conor slowly withdraws his fingers, gives me one last long lick, and rises to his feet. “I feel like fucking Superman right now.”

I peek one eye open and giggle. “Don’t get too cocky. We’ll have to see if you can do it a second time or whether it was beginner’s luck.”

The hard ridge of his dick presses against his boxer briefs. “I told you, Eloise, twelve-course meal.”

He palms his dick over his boxers, and I slowly sit up and get up on my knees, placing my hand over his. “Let me repay the favor.”

Taking control, he switches our hands so mine is on the bottom, and he tightens his palm over the back of my hand as I rub his dick. “We don’t have time for that. You squeezed my fingers so tight, I need to feel your pussy clenching around my dick.”

I have a feeling I’ll be reliving this night for the rest of my life.

Thirty-Three

Conor

Her hand is on my dick. Sure, there’s a piece of fabric over it, but fuck, it feels so damn good, as though I’ve waited for-goddamn-ever for this moment. I remove my hand from the top of hers, allowing her to use her magic touch on me like I did her, but her mouth won’t be on my cock tonight because I need to be inside her. To feel her warmth, her pussy walls contracting, to watch us come together after the unbearable build-up since that night stargazing.

“I love seeing your hands on me.”

She peeks up through her thick eyelashes and squeezes me with just the right amount of pressure to drive me wild.

“How about my mouth?” She leans down and pulls the waistband of my boxer briefs over my erection to rest under my balls.

---