Page 59 of Bad Habit
I stood. Not even bothering to turn off the shower, never mind grab towels, I carried her back into the bedroom. Laying her crosswise on the bed, I knelt beside it.
“What?” She lifted her head, but I was not in the mood for talking.
Putting her legs over my shoulders, I impatiently tugged her to the bed’s edge, parted her folds with my fingers, and flicked her clit with my tongue.
“Oh!” She bucked and reached down. “Oh! That’s not right… You shouldn’t…”
“Don’t do this?” I did it again, flicking back and forth. I sucked her clit into my mouth, then released it. “Do you want me to stop? Because I will if that’s what you want—”
“Never mind…” she said on an long exhale. “Don’t stop. Please.”
She’d said the magic words, and so I devoured her pussy, alternating between long strokes through her folds and sucking on her clit, loving how her body responded to each of my actions. Every muscle in her body flexed and shook, and her little sighs and moans replaced any attempt she made at talking. She was so wet and turned on, ready to come again—maybe even ready for full penetration.
But this was about her, not me, so I kept things varied, hoping I could stretch this out, keep her cresting for hours.
Folding my tongue, I pushed it inside her. She gasped and I so did it again, then again and again, plunging my stiffened tongue through her sensitive opening, loving the taste of her, loving her response, loving every fucking moment.
I hadn’t been with a virgin since Ashley Chan, back in high school, but Ash hadn’t responded like this. Not by half. My technique had likely improved over time, but it wasn’t just that. It was more. Faith was very sexual. And it seemed a crime for her to be celibate.
But that was what she wanted, so I sure as shit planned to give her a lifetime of sexual experiences while I had the chance.
Moving back to her clit, I sucked on it as I slipped my index finger inside her. She grabbed onto my hair, pulling, then kneading my skull as I rammed my finger and sucked harder on her clit. Could she take another finger? There was only one way to find out.
I pulled nearly out, then added my middle finger, slowly sliding the tips of both fingers inside her. Her body arched in response, and she moaned, lifting her hips, but then pushing forward as if trying to help me.
I didn’t need more encouragement.
I pumped my fingers, loving how her pussy relaxed to accommodate the width and then tightened its hold as if wanting my digits to linger longer inside her. Resting my other palm on her belly, I plunged as sweat rose on her chest and belly. She tipped back her head on the soft duvet, raising her throat and chest.
Varying my speed and depth, I continued to finger her, tongue her, suck her, and lick her until she was so sensitive that my exhales over her sex made her moan. I could do this all night, but I knew it was time. I pressed both fingers inside together and pumped, stroking her walls, hoping I was hitting her g-spot, and was rewarded as her breaths came even faster.
Sensing she was close, I took her clit in my mouth to create some hard suction.
A cry erupted from her lips and her body tensed, her legs tightening and pressing against my ears as her pussy spasmed, pulsing on my fingers. She pounded her fists on the bed as I continued to finger-pump her, continued to suck and flick her clit. I wanted to let her ride this wave as long as it lasted.
And boy how it lasted. I’d never seen a woman come so hard for so long. Her hips writhed, her back convulsed, then her pubic bone smashed into my nose, nearly stunning me.
“Oh, I can’t. Mac. Oh. Mac.” Her hips were raised, she could barely speak, and so I slowed my pace, holding my fingers nearly still to absorb the few final aftershocks as my tongue slowly circled her clit.
Her body collapsed boneless into the bed, and I slowly slipped out my fingers and kissed her inner thighs as I rubbed her legs. Then I rose up to kiss her soft belly, her breasts, and then finally and softly I reclaimed her lips.
She hooked her arm around my neck, and her chest heaved under my touch as she came down from the orgasmic high.
If she was high, I was drunk. Drunk on this woman I hadn’t even properly fucked. And the more time we spent together, the more I knew if I didn’t fuck her, and soon, I was certain to die.
For a long time, we lay on the bed, her snuggled into my body. I was exhausted, yet still so ready for more. Even if I had an entire week in bed with this woman, I wouldn’t want to stop, wouldn’t want to sleep or eat or drink. I had to admit I was hungry, but I could do without food way longer than I could go without holding Faith in my arms.
“Does lust—does sex—always feel that good?” she asked, still breathless.
I ran my fingers lightly over her back. “That’s a complicated question.”
“Why?” She shifted and looked into my eyes. My head was propped up on a pillow, my folded arm crooked around my neck, and the lights from the windows danced a pattern over her skin to make the moment magical.
“Yeah, I guess the physical act of sex always feels great.” I traced my fingers over her ribs. “At least on some level. But it’s better when you’re with the right person.”
Her expression changed for an instant, then returned to a contented smile. “Thank you for showing me how good it can feel.”
“Believe me, it felt good for me, too.” I hadn’t ever felt so much pleasure, even while fucking. When we did fuck, my head was going to explode.
