Page 91 of Curveball
“Look how pretty you are, wife.”
It’s not sexy,at all, from my point of view, but I’m a little in love with the way he calls mewife. He latches his lips around a nipple and sucks, and the shaft of pleasure that darts directly to my clit makes me gasp.
“Jesus, Max, do that again,” I cry out, because that was sexy as fuck. He does do it again, and then he moves to the other breast, sucking and abrading it with his tongue.
“Count on it, babe, I’m going to do this all night.”
He gently removes his hand from my head so he can use it to tweak the tender skin of the nipple he just abandoned.
He’s laying over me, his elbows braced against the counter, his hard, heavy erection rocking against my center. My hips writhe beneath him.
“I’m going to do this, too,” he says, and that’s the only warning I get.
He stands, takes my bare feet in his hands, and sets them on the counter. My knees are bent, my skirt drifting down my thighs to puddle at my waist, the tiny lace panties I’m wearing the only thing keeping my bare pussy from him.
And then, my panties are gone.
“You ready for this?”
Max takes my ankles in his hands and slides my legs apart, widening his access. His mouth lands on my swollen folds and he kisses me almost desperately as his finger joins in and slides through my damp slit, spreading the moisture over my clit.
Am I ready?I couldn’t be more ready. My body is on fire for him.
“Yes, yes. I want you. I need you to fuck me, Max.”
My hips buck, needing more of the friction he’s causing. Without removing his busy mouth, sucking and licking, he removes his hand and brings his finger to my lips, painting them with his fingertip and my moisture.
I hum as he does it, then suck in his finger and stroke it with my tongue.
“You don’t play fair, Palmer Girl,” he murmurs with his mouth full, and his voice is strained.
Good. Now we’re both suffering . . . in the best way ever.
“What are you going to do about it, bad boy?”
But he’s still on the move,going down on mein the most literal sense. His lips and tongue haven’t stopped since he arrived, kissing and sucking, licking and nipping. I still have possession on his finger, which is only fair.
My tongue stops swirling around his finger, my attention focused on Max and his glorious mouth, and what he’s doing with it. He presses his free hand firmly into my tummy before he sucks in my clit, and it probably keeps him from getting a broken nose.
Appendage fractured by thrusting pelvis—is that a thing?
He lets out a gusty breath of air, like a laugh that’s exhaled around a mouthful of clit. Then, he swipes his tongue the length of my slit and I let out a keening wail.Jesus, he’s good at this.
“I like your enthusiasm,” he says around a chuckle, which only causes a vibration to roll through my pussy. My orgasm is building, gaining strength and power, like a fast-moving storm.
“I love when you . . . everything . . . keep going.”
I can’t stay focused enough tothink. I’m engulfed infeel.
He does continue, without a pause for me to catch my breath, his tongue stroking my inner walls, his thumb focused on my clit, one finger, then two, entering my channel and sweeping upward. My world explodes.
Everything is quivering—my thighs, my inner walls, my heart. Max moves up so his body is over me, around me, holding me tight while the pulses and tremors dissipate, and gradually cease. When my body is stable, he helps me up and fixes my blouse, and I sit on the edge of the granite counter with my thighs spread wide and him hugging me from between my dangling legs.
“Is there anything you’re not good at?” I ask him, because the guy is every baseball fan’s man crush, every little boy’s hero, and honestly, a top tier addition to any woman’s pleasure vault.
He releases me and hops up so we’re sitting side-by-side.
“I’m not good at everything.” When I scoff, he continues. “I can’t cook, which is mostly because I don’t have time to get creative in the kitchen.”
