Page 67 of The Rest is History
Oh, dear God.
I’m going to have her mouth on me.
It’s the one thing I’ve tried to avoid imagining, because it’s too fucking painful. But, try as I might, I usually find myself fantasising about it in the seconds right before I come. Elodie’s perfect mouth wrapped around my cock.
‘You don’t have to—’ I begin faintly.
She’s already unbuckling my belt. ‘Do you think there’s anything I want more? I want this so badly. I can’t stop thinking about it.’
That has my attention.Jesus fuck.‘Seriously?’
‘Seriously. I was thinking about it on the way here.’ She smirks. ‘Planning all the things I want to do to you tonight.’
Holy hell. She doesn’t even have to go down on me. I’m in real danger of coming right here, in my boxer briefs, at the way she’s talking. I stare at her in wonder, my cock rigid with anticipation.
She scrambles off my lap and her dress falls to the ground, and good Lord. She’s indescribable in her underwear set, her breasts full, perfect pink nipples poking through the lace of her bra. And that little thong, that looks like it wouldn’t withstand one half-decent tug, hints at an alluring shadow beneath. Her dark hair cascades over her shoulders. Her breasts. I take the whole picture in in wonder.
My fantasies didn’t do her justice.
Nothing could.
I exhale as she unzips my trousers and raise my arse off the seat so she can tug them down.
‘You’re so beautiful,’ I tell her, my voice rough with need. ‘I’ve imagined it so much, what you’d look like, but you’re… perfect.’
She flushes, a pleased smile on her face. ‘I like that you’ve been imagining it.’
‘Do you?’
‘Yeah. Because you’re always so distant at school. So yes, it gives me a real kick to think you might’ve been thinking dirty thoughts about me under that haughty expression of yours.’
‘You’d be horrified if you knew what I was doing to you in my head on pretty much a permanent loop.’
‘I doubt that,’ she says. ‘Anyway, I’ve been imagining you naked too, and you’re so gorgeous, Charlie. I want to kiss every inch of you.’
I groan. ‘Fine by me.’
My cock is straining at the waistband of my boxer briefs. I’ve already painted a damp spot on the fabric. She reaches in and pulls the waistband down, freeing my poor cock and palming it. The shocking pleasure of skin-on-skin contact has me shuddering as I take in the exquisite sight of Elodie Peach leaning over me in her sinfully pretty underwear, my cock in her hand.
She pumps it once, lightly, her fingers brushing over the shaft before gliding over my sensitive crown, spreading my moisture.
I clench my fists. ‘Jesus Christ.’
‘Oh my God.’ She pumps it again, biting down on her lip as she does so, and the appreciation on her face nearly finishes me off. She looks around and grabs a scatter cushion from the sofa with her free hand, chucking it on the ground and getting to her knees between my legs. She tugs at my boxers and I lift my backside again, and then I’m naked except for my open shirt.
‘Take your bra off, sweetheart,’ I grit out.
‘Ready to see my duckies?’ she enquires sweetly, and I erupt with pained laughter.
‘You are so fucked up.’
‘I’m not the one with the Anne Boleyn fetish.’
I shake my head. ‘Just an Elodie Peach fetish. And I need to see your tits.’
She reaches behind her, unhooking her bra and shrugging it off. Holy fucking shit. They’re so gorgeous. A very generous handful. I lean forward to admire them. To weigh them in my hands. To brush reverent thumbs over stiff-as-fuck nipples. I could shoot my load right now, but her hand is on my chest, coaxing me back, and I sink into the cushions as she lowers her mouth onto me.
I’m drowning in a vortex of sensation and she’s only licking my poor, weeping slit. There’s no anxiety now; my world hasnarrowed to the point where our bodies are joined. To the suppleness of her tongue. The wet softness of her mouth. The feeling of going under as she takes more of me in. Her grip around my root, and the delicious pressure of her other hand as she explores my balls. Stroking them. Weighing them.
