Page 90 of Pregnant By the Playboy
To be honest, I tried not to think about the fact that I let him lick me in public, that I orgasmed in public. I wanted him so badly that I couldn’t think about anything else. I wasn’t ashamed I went home with a guy I hardly knew and spent the weekend with him, but I was a little ashamed of that part.
But maybe I’d like to do it again. Maybe I’d enjoy watching him with another woman, then taking his cock inside me after she comes. Maybe I’d enjoy two men touching me at the same time.
I’ve never done anything remotely like that.
My skin is burning up.
Vince grins at me, and I hate the space between us. I go to him, and a moment later, he’s tossed my dress, bra, and panties on the floor.
“You like the thought, don’t you?” he says. “I figured you might.”
“Have you had threesomes?” I ask.
“Sure.”
“Have you fucked two women, one after the other?”
“Yeah.”
“Have you and another man taken turns with a woman?”
“More than two of us, sometimes.”
I shut my eyes and imagine Vince and another man, taking turns with me.
Not long ago, we were talking about turnips, and now this.
The day we met, I wanted him to myself. But I do have fantasies. I always just considered them fantasies, to keep locked away and brought out with my vibrator. Perhaps they’ll stay that way—or perhaps they’d be fun to explore within a relationship—but at least I can talk about them with him.
He kneels on the floor in front of me, still in his jeans and polo shirt, even though I’m nude. He pushes his finger inside and wipes my moisture on my leg afterward, showing me how wet I am.
“You have such a pretty pussy. Everyone would love to see it again.” He sets his mouth on me, tracing my entrance, lapping up my moisture. Spreading my folds with his fingers. “They would know I was the luckiest guy in the room. And maybe, if he asked really nicely, you’d allow another guy to touch you, too.”
With that, Vince stops talking and starts licking me with abandon. I press his head against me. I can’t let him go. I need to come like this, and it won’t take long. He works two fingers inside me, and I shudder.
When he licks my clit, my legs start to wobble. He eases me down until I’m lying on the floor, and then he’s licking me again, his hands on my upper thighs, holding me open. God, I love seeing his head between my legs, and if there were other people in the room to watch...
I clench around him and cry out.
“Can you take my cock now?” he asks.
I nod. I’m unable to speak, overcome by that orgasm.
He carries me into the living room and spreads me out on the sofa with one leg hooked over the back. He doesn’t undress, just opens his pants and slides into me. Oh my. His chest slaps against mine, over and over. Soon it’ll be hard to have sex like this, I’ll get too big, but for now...
Again and again, he pounds into me, taking me like he did that first night...and yet it’s different now. We’re not simply strangers who find each other attractive. So much has happened since then.
An ultrasound. Matcha double fromage cheesecake. Mocktails. Raspberry-balsamic sorbet. Crying to a lullaby. Turnips and conversations about threesomes.
God, our relationship is weird and wonderful.
“Marissa...I can’t...” He quickens his pace, and a few strokes later, he comes inside me.
He doesn’t pull out right away but takes my mouth in his and circles my clit with his thumb until I cry out.
“I love you,” he says.
And that nearly ruins the moment because I still can’t say it back.
