Page 59 of The Worst Kind of Promise
“There she is. There’s my greedy girl.” I kneel down at the height of her pussy, inhaling her scent, ogling the glorious sight of her cunt, already imagining how sweet she’s going to taste—like honey dripping directly from the comb. “You want my tongue? You’re gonna fucking get it. And I’m going to eat you out until you squirt all over my face, got it?”
She nods, wrapping her legs around my shoulders and thrusting her vagina into my face. My tongue instantly delves into her heat, slipping past her slick folds, slurping up the first dregs of her arousal like I haven’t had a decent drink in months. I employ a swirling motion, dragging and flicking it over her swollen nub, and her hips buck up from the bed as she swallows a moan. Obscene noises fill the empty space between us, saliva and liquid desire merging in sticky smacks that echo off the walls.
I pull back partially, laving at her puffy lips with brief laps, attending to the overworked bundle of nerves. Endorphins fire inside me, my dick jerking behind my shorts in time to the noises stuck in her throat—noises I so desperately wish I could hear. She slithers her hand through my hair and pulls roughly, squirming for me to spear back inside her and satiate the throb I’ve created.
I nip at the hood of her clit, testing her patience, seeing how long she’ll survive until she’s begging me to venture my tongue deeper, to reach every crevice, to make her come so hard that all she sees are stars.
“If you’re going to eat me out, at least do it right,” she hisses, dragging her nails against my scalp.
I immediately draw back, raise my head, and glare at her with hungry, slitted eyes, lickinghercum off my lips. “Iknowyou didn’t just say that to me when my mouth was on your cunt.”
She contemplates, and even though she has plenty of time to rethink her next words, she decides to wage a war anyways. “At this rate, I’ll come faster with the goddamn vibrator.”
“You really want to have a go at that?” I growl, my frustration—and arousal—rising to unprecedented levels, so overbearing that I’m seconds away from flipping her onto her back and teasing her hole. I want her thrashing beneath me, muffling her screams into my shoulder, her eyes watering from pure pleasure. I don’t condone ever making a girl cry. Unless she’s crying while you give her the best orgasm of her life.
“You’re a slut for my tongue. Look at you, making a mess all over my face. You seriously think you could get off better with a fucking vibrator? I’ve felt the way you’ve milked my cock, Princess, and I know for a fact that you’ll be calling for me the second you’re ‘satisfied.’”
Before she can say anything, I mold my mouth back to her cunt, sweeping my tongue against her fluttering walls, carefully circling her G-spot but not touching it entirely. A moan I’m assuming she tried to silence rends the air, and my eyes shoot up to notice the sweat waterfalling down her forehead, the strain of her tits as she heaves through breaths. She looks like a goddess right now—the stunning flush of her skin, the way the soft swell of her belly retracts, her face screwed up in permanent rapture.
“I’m—oh, God. Kit…”
“You don’t get to come. Not until I say you do.”
My jaw’s starting to ache, but I’m going to give Faye Hollings an orgasm so incredible she’ll never want to use a vibrator ever again. She’s got my neck in some kind of leglock, and her whole body is starting to shake, those tears that I’ve been waiting for springing to her eyes. I’m about to come myself just from watching her get there.
She whimpers—fuckingwhimpers—and I feel her clit start to squeeze my tongue.
“Faye,” I reprimand against her cunt, but instead of the apology I was expecting, there’s a knock on the door.
I freeze. She freezes. We both freeze—in a compromising position, nonetheless. The goose bumps on my flesh remind me how very naked we both are.
The voice of the mystery intruder cleaves through our dome of privacy. “Faye? It’s Hayes.”
22
A RECIPE FOR DISASTER
FAYE
Hayes. As in, my brother. As in, right outside the door. Why is he here right now? I thought he was supposed to be at Aeris’.
I expect Kit to hide in the closet or fling himself out my window, but he doesn’t do either of those things. In fact, he doesn’t even come up for air.
My heart’s beating so hard that I’m afraid it’ll bruise my ribs. From where I’m sitting, I can see that the door’s locked, but somehow, that tiny piece of metal doesn’t feel like adequate protection.
Am I supposed to respond? What do I say? Do I keep the door locked? Won’t he get suspicious? Oh, God. This is the worst possible thing that could happen to us. I knew sneaking around would be hard, but I didn’t know it would be downright dangerous.
My mouth opens an inch, but Kit’s Goliath hand slaps over it. He’s still buried in my pussy, and all I can see are his jet-black eyes throwing daggers at me.
“Look, I get you don’t want to talk. I know you’re still mad. I didn’t really…apologize for how I acted. But you understand, right?” Hayes says from the other side of the door, his words only slightly muffled.
Could he have anyworsetiming?
If I try to say anything, the sound won’t get past Kit’s hand. At least we could share in the mortification, right? A funny story to be looked back upon when we’re gray and old and passing time in the senior retirement home.
But no, because Kit isn’t nearly as fazed as I am. In fact, he’s so unfazed that his tongue pushes further past my ring of muscle, licking every inch of me that he can reach.
Oh, God. I’m so close. I’m going to come. Fifteen feet away from my brother.
