Page 39 of Bad At Love

“Let it go on. I’ll get you there as fast as I can.” Then he was fucking her slit with the tip of his tongue, and she arched off the bed like a bow pulled taut.

“Can I use my fingers? You’re wet enough. But a little hurt is good, right?”

“Yes to anything you want to stick inside me.”

“Only my fingers and tongue for now, baby.”

The rhythm he set drove her out of her skin. Clearly, he’d already internalized the fact that she needed a lot of stimulation to come and he gave it to her, over and over. Three fingers plunged in and out, the pad of one hitting her G-spot, while he sucked her clit.

Hands in his hair, Chaaru used his head like a gaming console, pulling and tugging.

“Pull your bra down. Pinch your nipples. Do it hard like I would.”

She followed his instructions, and it still wasn’t enough. Sweat and tears rolled down her temples. “More, DP. Please, don’t leave me now.”

“I’m not going anywhere. Not when this sweet pussy is taking my fingers so well.”

And then his large palm moved up her body and his fingers joined hers at her nipple, pinching and tugging and rubbing. It was intense and raw, and yet somehow achingly tender to see his thick fingers tangled with hers.

Stars shimmered behind her eyelids, emitting sparks and tingles, and she thrust her hips mindlessly, chasing his mouth.

“Look down at me,” he said, his tongue fluttering against her clit like a bird’s wings in flight.

Hands curled around her breasts, sweat coating her skin, she did.

Meeting his liquid gaze, the scrape of his stubble against her clit pulled that spring tighter and tighter. His lips were damp with her wetness, his nostrils flared as he said, “You’re the best thing I’ve ever tasted, sweetheart. Once will never be enough. I’m going to need to eat this pussy day and night.”

One more tug with those lips and the coiled spring snapped with a sharp, near-painful tug. Her orgasm crashed over her, breathtaking in its ferocity. On and on, the waves lapped at her core. The flicks of DP’s tongue coaxing it higher and further until she was nothing but shattered fragments of intense pleasure.

A wealth of sounds fell from her lips as she let the sensations float her away to some new plane. And she lingered there, pulses and aftershocks tethering her.

Only when her thigh muscles quaked did she realize how hard she was clasping his head.

A feverish languor spread through her, leaving her spun out. The need to hide so that she didn’t have to face the emotional aftermath threatened to taint the moment, but she fought it with everything she had.

This was her best friend, and he’d just had his mouth on her pussy.

“Did I dent your head with my thighs?” she asked.

It was how he had guided her through it, both coaxing and commanding her, that had pushed her over. And she was so done fighting how perfect, how right this man was for her. How...precious he was to her.

His lips danced across her lower belly, skimming the thick, raised scar from the cesarean, moving torturously slow as if he couldn’t leave an inch of her skin untouched and un-kissed. “Even if you had, I wouldn’t have stopped,” he said, kissing a circle around her belly button. “I’d have blacked out and fallen face first into your pussy and that’s not a bad way to go.”

Chaaru blushed at the wicked desire in those words. When his face came up to her chest, she let herself look and fall into those beautifully familiar eyes. Emotion beat at her with the force of a thousand butterfly wings, fragile and yet strong. “That was…explosive.”

“As were you,” he said, rubbing the corner of her lips. Warm breath tickled the shell of her ear as he traced a broad fingertip up and down the valley between her breasts. “Enough to get through the day?”

“Might need a top up around three,” she said, just as his mouth found the arch of her neck.

His lips were soft and warm against her damp skin, the switch from the demanding, filthy-mouthed lover to this sweet, cuddling friend so seamless that she felt breathless all over again.

Here was this perfect, gorgeous man who was everything she’d ever wanted, right by her side for so many years. And yet her own fears had blinded her to seeing him and knowing him. Skimming her palms over his thick shoulders, she held them at bay. It was easy to, with his strong, solid body within reach.

Her phone’s alarm went off again.

His laughter as he smiled against her skin, the vibrations of his powerful body pressing down on hers was a gift. The relentless beat of the shrill alarm counted down their time together, every tinny beat reminding her that she only had him for a week.

She’d thrown out the term ‘couple for a week’ without thinking much. To create an entry ramp that didn’t overwhelm her or him. But now, with each hour that passed, each line they crossed, a strange certainty was building within her. One measly week might never be enough.

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