Page 33 of Ride Me

“Oh, I do like you, little one,” he purred, his eyes flashing. “We’ve never told anyone what we are, other than Ben. It’s very liberating, this honesty. I don’t know why I’ve never tried it before. Shall I tell you what Rousseau thought of the very first time he saw you?” He smiled. “He says no. Perhaps I will just show you instead.”

He slid down her body, his breath hot against her nipples, the soft curve of her belly. “Freckles. You have freckles everywhere. They are incredibly distracting.” He stopped to lick a small patch of them clustered on her hip, making deep sounds of appreciation against her skin.

“You, ah, you really do like freckles then? Oh, that feels...mmm.”

“Like cinnamon sprinkled all over your body. They taste as sweet to me. You have one on your lip I couldn’t stop staring at. Rousseau never understood my fascination. But he does now.”

His lips glided along her hip to her thigh, his fingers tugging the wet red curls of her sex, making her moan. She curved toward him, lifting her hips in a silent plea for more.

He smiled against her skin. “Good. You aren’t shaved. So many women are these days, but I love a natural woman.”

“You and Aretha Franklin.”

He chuckled, tugging again, and Allegra felt her clit pulsing in response. “This is what Rousseau thought about most. He wanted to fall to his knees, press his face between your thighs and worship you. To spread your legs and feast. He was so hungry for you, cher. So hungry he couldn’t hide it from me.”

He lifted her legs over his shoulders, kneeling on the floor beside the bed. “She’s so wet. So pretty and pink and wet for us.”

“She’s beautiful.”

Allegra lifted heavy lids to look over Rousseau’s shoulder, catching Ben’s gaze. His blond hair fell over his glittering eyes as he watched them together. She’d almost forgotten he was there again, that he was a witness to the most intimate experience of her life.

It didn’t make her uncomfortable or nervous now. It felt right. She wasn’t sure if he was here as her spotter or here for Rousseau. Maybe both. It didn’t matter now. Not when he was fulfilling one of her fantasies by watching her succumb to desire. And another part of her, apparently more debauched than she’d realized, was hoping that he’d get another chance to touch her as well.

Bone Daddy tugged on her curls again, a little harder this time. “I must be boring you if that pale empath can take your attention away from me. I think I’ll have to do something about that.”

His fingers spread the lips of her sex open and he lowered his head, his tongue exploring her newly exposed flesh with a skill she could only react to.

“Yes.” Her back arched off the bed, eyes closing in ecstasy at the sensations flooding her system. It had been so long. And it had never felt like this.

He sucked her clit in his mouth, his tongue swirling to gather every drop of her arousal. He groaned aloud at her taste, gripping her hips to pull her closer, burying his face deeper between her thighs.

Her hands curled into fists around the sheet beneath her, the heels of her feet digging into his back as his short hair tickled her thighs. “Please.”

She couldn’t help lifting her hips and rocking against his mouth as his tongue thrust deep, feral sounds of approval rumbling in his chest. She gripped the back of his head, holding him close and fucking his beautiful mouth. “More.”

More.She didn’t know whose thought it was, but it repeated in her head like a melody played to the beat of her pounding heart. Her skin was on fire, spine tingling with the power of her rising arousal.

His hands slid from her hips to the cheeks of her ass, squeezing, caressing, spreading. She was drenched with need, her sex and thighs soaked with it. Rousseau’s fingers, too, were slick and coated with her heat.

Allegra’s eyes opened wide when she felt the firm pressure of his thumbs against her ass. Without lifting his mouth from her he met her gaze, his own glowing with determination and untamed passion. He wasn’t asking for permission, he was demanding she submit.

She breathed out on a trembling sigh, and the pressure increased. She’d experimented with toys in the past, mostly out of curiosity, but she was sure she would never allow anyone to take her there. But she’d been sure of a lot of things a few days ago. Sure she wasn’t into threesomes, or voyeurism, or men with split personalities.

The Bone Daddy Effect. That must be it. How else could she explain her wicked behavior? Her sudden impatience to feel him filling her from behind?

His growl grew louder, and his thumbs pushed inside her in small, short thrusts. Fiery bursts of pleasure exploded through her body. Oh God, it was too much. Overwhelming. His mouth, his hands... Too much.

Come quick this first time, cher. We’ve waited too long for a taste of you.

Her cry was loud in the stillness of the loft. Her neck arched at an impossible angle, eyes sightless with the strength of her orgasm. She was shaking, her flesh sizzling with electricity.

She lifted her head, seeking connection. She wanted to see him, to look into those eyes and know she’d pleased him as much as he’d pleased her. That she wasn’t alone in this.

Her vision cleared in time to witness the battle. He hadn’t stopped, if anything he was more voracious, greedier for her taste. But his eyes were changing, flashing hazel and gold and back again. She knew what was happening. Rousseau wanted out. Wanted to experience this—her—firsthand.

Yes.

She shivered, her hips jerking against his mouth as the waves of her climax continued to break over her. She pushed against his thumbs, loving the sharp, stinging stretch—already wanting more.

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