Page 6 of Riot Reunion
She'll never understand how much I enjoy this shit. How much pleasure it brings me to feel her body tremble and quake beneath my hands. She thinks that I'm obsessed with fucking her, and shit, I am. I really am. But there's somethingsosatisfying about eating little Elodie Stillwater’s pussy.
I lick, and suck, and I swirl my tongue around the pressure point of her clit, and I relish every single second of it. Elodie’s grip on my hair increases as I quicken my speed. She doesn't realize that she's pulling my hair, or that she's rocking her hips up to meet my mouth now. She's lost in the bliss shuttling up and down her body, and I wouldn't have it any other way. I want her to ride my mouth. I want her to pull me down to meet her, so that she takes the pressure she needs from my mouth. I want her to ride my fucking face and grind her cunt into my mouth as hard as she damn well pleases. It's the sexiest thing in the entire fucking world to me.
“Holy fuck, Wren. Yes! Oh my God, that feels so good.”
Fuck, her voice is a breathy rasp. The sound of it makes the skin at the back of my neck prickle. So, so fucking sexy. She grinds her wetness against my lips, and I dig my fingers into her bare ass cheeks, urging her to take even more. I’d spend all day doing this to her if I could—until my tongue cramped, and my jaw locked and refused to close properly. It’d be worth the pain. Even if I had to eat my meals through a goddamn straw for the rest of my days, it’d be fucking worth it.
She tastes like raw honey. I savor the sweetness of her, swallowing her down, drinking her like nectar. I'm drunk on her. Ravenous for her. Desperate for all that I can claim.
“Wren. Wren…” She pulls my hair harder, and I revel in the pain of it, wishing for more. I'd ask for it if I could, but that would require me to stop what I’m doing, and no way that’s happening. “Ah!Wren!”Elodie chants my name with a reverence that makes her sound ten times more pious than the priest who just left the church. The sound of her panting the name my mother gave me is music to my ears. It fills me with a savage satisfaction that spills out and overflows into my blood, turning me into a bonfire of need.
Even faster now, I flick the tip of my tongue over her clit, gouging at her flesh with my nails. Releasing her right ass cheek, I slide my hand up the inside of her thigh and dip my fingers into her heat; she's dripping wet now. Her slickness, coupled with my saliva, has drenched the insides of her thighs, and the feeling of her arousal coating my skin forces an overly aggressive rumble to scorch the back of my throat. I sound like a rabid dog, deranged and ready to attack. She’smine. This small, fiery, magnificent girl is all mine, and I will slit the throat of any man who tries to take her from me.
Sliding my finger inside her—just one at first—I smirk like the ruthless bastard that I am as Elodie convulses against my mouth. I'm barely in up to the second knuckle of my middle finger but my sweet girl is tighter than hell and ready to blow. It won't take much— the slightest amount of pressure applied in a stroking motion against the inner wall of her pussy will tip her over the edge. Under normal circumstances, I’d drag this out and torture her a little. I'd make her beg for it, to plead with me for her release. Wearein a church, though, and there is such a thing as pushing our luck. If this weren't the day of Jason Stillwater's funeral, it wouldn't matter to me if we were caught.
I curl my finger inside her, slowly sliding myself out of her as I continue to lick and suck at her clit, and when I reinsert my finger, driving it up slowly inside her, I make sure to pay special attention to the area that I know will drive her insane. Elodie’s guttural cry ricochets around the inside of the church like a gunshot. At the sound of it, my cock twitches, hardening to maddening degrees, begging to be released from the constraints of my dress pants. I can't allow that to happen. If I even think about unzipping my fly and taking my dick out, there'll be no turning back for me. I won't be able to stop myself…
Swiftly, I plunge my fingers in and out of Elodie, a wildfire burning in my blood. She issowet. So, fucking wet and tight, and she tastes so fucking good. I can't fucking take it anymore. I break away from her with my mouth just long enough to look up at her, drinking in the sight of her—flushed cheeks; swollen, pouty lips; eyes half closed, pupils blown to drowning pools—and I spit a curse against the gods through my clenched teeth. They created a creature of incomprehensible beauty when they forged Elodie Stillwater. Nothing and no one will ever be able to compare to her.
I’m lost.
I’m lost.
I’msofucking lost…
She softly strokes her fingertips down my cheek, along the edge of my jaw, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth, wetting it so that it comes out glossy and shining. Her breath saws in and out of her, her chest pumping up and down almost as fast as my fingers working their way in and out of her.
“Come,” I command. “Come for me right fucking now.”
Elodie’s eyes go wide—she looks half-panicked for a second, but then I understand what's happening: she's obeying. She's coming, falling, diving headfirst off a cliff from a very great height. The wall of ecstasy has taken her by surprise. Her eyes roll back into her head. Her hands find my shoulders, and she holds onto me for dear life as she splinters apart.
“Oh, God. Oh,fffffffffuuuuuck! Ohgodohgodohgod!”Her words run into one another, becoming a blur of unintelligible noise as her orgasm crests. I bury my face deeper into her pussy, reveling in the way her hips buck and jump against my mouth. I circle her with my tongue, flicking, working her clit faster and faster, thrusting my fingers in and out of her, quickly sliding my index finger inside to join my middle finger, filling her up as the walls of her pussy spasm and contract around me.
She reaches the pinnacle of her climax, throwing her head back, letting out a strangled cry that can probably be heard out on the street, it's so loud, but I do not stop. I keep going, even when I can tell her orgasm has reached the point of sensitivity. Even when she's scrambling at my shoulders, writhing against me, desperately trying to close her legs. All she succeeds in accomplishing is clamping her toned thighs around my head, locking me in place as I continue to draw her pleasure to a screaming peak.
Oh, wait. That’sElodiescreaming. “Wren! Fuck! Oh shit, please, please, please! Stop!”
The sensation has become too much for her. Every time I lave at her with the flat of my tongue, she yelps like she's about to leap out of her own skin.
“Oh my god! You just wait, Jacobi. I swear to God, the next time I make you come, I won't stop riding you until you’rebeggingfor mercy.”
Grinning like a cold-blooded fiend, I sit back onto my heels, staring up at her. She looks so fucking beautiful like this, her hair tousled, her cheeks flushed, her eyes alert, an electric energy dancing within them. If I could make it so that this girl walked around looking like she'd just been fucked twenty-four-seven, you can bet your ass I'd do it. Of course, I'd have to lock her away somewhere. If every guy she encountered had the honor of witnessing her post-coitus glow, I'd have a fight on my hands. A fight I'd win, but still…
“You look mighty pleased with yourself,” she says, running the pad of her thumb along my bottom lip. When she dips that thumb into my mouth running it over my bottom teeth, I realize she was wiping away the wetness she left behind on my mouth.
I catch hold of her by the wrist, stopping her when she tries to do it again. “Don't even think about it, Stillwater. I want to be able to smell you on my skin and taste you on my lips for the rest of this shitty day and half of tomorrow, too.”
She quirks an amused eyebrow at me, the left-hand side of her mouth lifting up into an approximation of a smile. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“That might not be such a good idea given that we have to spend the rest of the day with a bunch of military personnel.”
“As if any of those dried up fuckers know what pussy smells like,” I counter, setting Elodie’s leg back down on the ground. Rising, I brush my hands down the front of my shirt, straightening myself out. Elodie lets out a small chuckle, also straightening her dress out, smoothing it down. She stoops, wriggling her right foot back into her black patent pump; it must have fallen off when I had her leg over my shoulder. The lightness of her laughter eases the tension that's been bubbling away behind my breastbone since I woke up this morning. She's going to be okay. She really is. She’s so fucking strong, and resilient, and amazing. No matter how difficult things might get, she always picks herself back up and dusts herself off. This day is about as awful as they come, but it's just a day. We're going to get through this. Tomorrow, we'll wake up and this whole mess will be in our rearview mirror. We—
“Whoa, sh—OH MY GOD!”
Before I can reach out and grab her, Elodie stumbles backward, unbalanced…and slams into Jason Stillwater's coffin.Like all disasters, it happens in slow motion: Elodie’s shocked expression, transforming from surprise to dismay; the sound of her back hitting the extraordinarily shiny black wood; the horrifying moment when the coffin that houses Elodie’s piece of shit father skates across the surface of the polished marble plinth that it sits upon...and goes crashing to the floor.
