Page 68 of Where the Blacktop Ends

“Hm…” he hums before removing his fingers completely. When he doesn’t put them back, I open an eye to watch him slowing dragging them into his mouth and sucking inward. My legs shake and my lips part as a smirk crosses his face. And then he lowers his face, until his breath is right against my pussy, and I can feel his words. “Tell me what you thought about while you were fucking yourself this morning.”

Before I can respond, his tongue drags upward against my clit before pressing firmly and holding.

A moan escapes my lips. He hums then moves lower, spiking his tongue so deep inside of me I swear it touches my womb. I’ve never had someone go so far into me before and the way he’s dragging his beard and mustache across me has me clawing at the tub.

“Troy…” I hiss.

“What did you think about this morning?” he asks again as his fingers join his mouth, teasing every part of my core in a sloppy, orgasm inducing haze. My legs shake as I try to hold on and not lose balance.

“You I… I…oh god…”

“You what?” he asks again as he draws my clit back between his lips in a fluttering suction then laps at it with his tongue like it’s candy.

“You… going down on me… your cock inside of me…. Stretching me… Taking all of me,” I breathe out. I’m on the edge, just about to come when he pulls back slightly to look in my eyes.

“I thought about you this morning too. When I was in the shower, fucking my hand. I imagined you bent over this tub while I took this pretty pussy bare.”

Oh, fuck.

He dips between my thighs again, his tongue expertly outlining my vulva with kisses, nips, and sucks. It’s just enough to keep edging me and not enough to finish me the way I need.

“Troy, I need more,” I beg, grabbing the back of his face and taking over as I grind onto him harder.

“Show me what you like,” he says, the vibrations of his voice hum against me as he sucks me so hard, I see stars.

“Yes! Troy—oh, God, yes!” My orgasm doesn’t just find me—itclaimsme. It hits like a tidal wave, dragging me under, my body convulsing as heat ripples through every nerve. I’m lost in it, gasping for air, my thighs clamping around his head as I ride out the storm. My hands claw at his shoulders, my nails digging in as I hold on for dear life while he anchors me in place, his mouth still moving, still taking everything

“Fuck, Georgia…” His voice is rough, almost reverent, as he lifts his head, his lips still glistening with me. His eyes find mine, and for a second, I forget how to breathe. There’s something in his gaze—something deeper than lust. “You come like a woman who’s been waiting her whole life for someone to touch her like that.”

My heart stumbles. He sees me. And I’m not sure if that terrifies me or makes me fall even harder.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs in appreciation.

My legs are still shaking but I force myself to stand anyways and then drop to my knees next to him.

“Your turn.”

He shakes his head no. “I don’t expect that, Georgia.”

“I want it. I’m dying to taste you.” Because I am. I’ve been dying to taste him from the moment I first ran into him.

He stands tall, still in his suit pants, the fabric stretched tight over the obvious bulge. My fingers tremble slightly as I reach for his belt, unfastening it, then working the zipper down, pushing the pants to the floor. All that’s left are his boxer briefs, clinging to him like they’re struggling to contain him.

With a slow, deliberate motion, he starts undoing the buttons of his shirt, each one revealing more of his smooth, tan skin, the ink on his chest just another layer to the mystery of him.

I lean back, my hands gripping the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down. His cock springs free, slapping against his lower stomach with a sharp, electric thwap, and I can’t stop the gasp that escapes me.

He’s huge. Not just long, but thick too. One vein runs across the top of him, like a line pointing to the wide swollen tip that I can’t wait to taste. The sheer size of him makes me wonder if it will hurt sliding down my throat, but I’m eager to find out. A sore throat tomorrow will be worth this because it’s my turn to take control. I

guide him to the edge of the tub where I was just sitting, and he obeys, watching me closely as I drop to my knees and settle between his legs, using his towel for support.

I pull my damp hair to the side, wetting my lips as I take him in. The tip is swollen, a deep, angry purple color, and I swear I can see that vein on top pulsing. I hold it in my hands, struggling to get my fingers around him and dip my tongue into his slit, tasting the saltiness of his precum before swirling my tongue around the head, teasing him.

When I look up to check in, his hazel eyes are lighter, honey-sweet, filled with a mixture of surprise and something else. Appreciation, I think.

“Show me what you like,” I whisper, taking his hands and guiding them to tangle in my hair. If he wants to fuck my face, I’d let him. Because right now I’m so turned on all I can see is him. All I wantis him.

He shakes his head, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Georgia, everything you’ve done since you walked into my life is something I’ve liked.”

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