Page 64 of Bad Boy Next Door
His tongue grazed the fabric of my shorts, and I gasped. He continued to flick his tongue over my shorts, and the caress, although still light, was so much better than the riding crop’s, because I didn’t know when to expect it.
Pressing back farther, I was rewarded by some serious lapping along the edges of the shorts’ fabric. If they hadn’t been wet before…
Straightening for a moment, l wriggled them down and stepped out of one side, moving quickly back into the same position, this time with no fabric between my skin and his tongue.
He stroked through my wet folds, teased my opening, and his rumbling moan vibrated up from his chest, radiating through my body.
Just as I was getting used to the teasing, his tongue speared me, plunging, licking, and stabbing, and the shallow penetration of the nerve-laden area made me cry out.
I fell back, worried for a second I might smother him, but his relentless tongue-fucking continued. I reached for my clit. I was so close, but I wasn’t sure I was ready for this part to end. I pulled away and turned.
His gaze brushed over my body, from crotch to face, and our eyes locked. The need I saw there fueled my fire.
Every muscle in his body was taut, his erection reaching toward me, and I loved that I had the power to decide when his pleasure would arrive. As badly as I wanted to touch his hard rod, to ride it, I wouldn’t. Not yet.
Instead, I drew the crop up the inside of my leg and stroked my pussy, soaking the leather, loving the contrast between the cool hardness of the leather and the soft warmth of his tongue. I preferred his tongue, his lips, his teeth.
As if wanting the same thing, his head strained forward and he licked his lips.
I stepped closer, and holding onto the pole, I wrapped one leg over his shoulder. With no use of his hands, he groped with his tongue and lips, fighting to reach his target. I reached down to spread my lips and his mouth locked onto my clit, sucking me forward, the pleasure so powerful my orgasm exploded in an instant, shooting parts of me flying around the room.
I writhed against his face, holding the pole for dear life as the burning pleasure continued its clenching waves until I was no longer sure where I was, who I was, or what was holding me up.
I cried out, throwing my head back and closing my eyes against the bright stage lights. My hips thrust like I was humping the pole, humping his face, and the only thing keeping my legs from buckling was my desire to keep his lips latched onto my sex.
The orgasm continued in wild waves, longer and harder than I thought was possible, and just as it slowed, he flicked my clit with his tongue and it started again, strong aftershocks tugging my insides.
He teased out my aftershocks, flicking and sucking, dipping through my vulva, drinking me in like no man had ever done.
As the aftershocks subsided, his tongue slowly stroked me, avoiding my sensitive clit, and as spent as I was, I felt the unmistakable build of my body wanting more.
I slipped my leg off his shoulder and slid down to straddle his legs just behind his raging cock. His face was slick with sweat and with me, and he leaned forward to capture my mouth, his lips and tongue ravaging my face the same way they’d taken my pussy.
Tasting myself on his lips made me feel both dirty and desirable—and made me want to taste him.
I pushed back and bent to take the head of his cock into my mouth. His hips bucked, pushing him in farther. Gripping his shaft, I slowly lapped up the sides of him, stroking up and down, taking in his salty heat, teasing him, loving how each stroke made his chest grumble, his hips heave.
My tongue slowly circled his head, then I sucked it in, hard.
Swearing, he bucked, so I repeated the pattern again and again, varying it slightly each time, loving how powerful I felt controlling this body, twice the size of my own, with only my hands and my mouth.
I wanted him inside me, I wanted to fuck him for hours, but this game of stroking and licking and sucking overrode my ability to make decisions. He seemed to yield to it too, thrusting up as I stroked or sucked him between my lips.
His stomach tightened. He cursed as I felt him come, and I pulled my mouth off, directing the eruption to land on both of our bodies, covering my tits and his chest. I licked some off and then kissed him again, his mouth still tasting of my juices, our flavors combining. So fucking dirty and hot.
And as I kissed him, rubbing my spiked bra against his chest, I realized his cock was still semi-hard beneath me and growing harder, pressing against my inner thigh. Positioning him between my folds, I stroked the hard rod along the length of my sex, ramming it against my clit at the top of each stroke. He got harder with each pass, so ready to impale me.
Fuck. I needed a condom. I pulled back.
“What?” He panted, barely able to speak.
“Condom. I’ve got some in my purse.”
“Jeans.” He tipped his head, and I scrambled on all fours across the stage to retrieve one, so grateful I didn’t need to go all the way to the dressing room. I’d meant to stash one in the bra, but forgot.
“Fuck, baby, you look so juicy.” His voice was gruff, deep.
Realizing I was on all fours, I looked back over my shoulder and stretched like a cat, spreading my legs wide for him, opening myself up to his heated gaze.
