Page 27 of Racking Up Penalties
I press my mouth to her and slide my tongue through her wetness. Her taste explodes on my tongue, making me moan long and loud.
Thankfully Emma isn’t here, no sister needs to hear a sound like that.
I circle her clit before sucking on it.
I’ve watched porn. I didn’t want to be clueless and let’s be honest, I’m not a saint.
Using everything I learned, I make Tessa shake under me.
I suck on her clit then circle around it before moving lower and stabbing my tongue in and out, enjoying every taste of her. Flicking my tongue seems to get her really worked up.
“Tristan, I’m so close,” she breathes out, her voice laced with a vulnerability that only heightens this moment. Her fingers tighten in my hair, a silent urging that I understand all too well. I double my efforts, driven by the need to see her unravel, to witness the release of her passion because of me.
I slide two fingers inside her and curl them up, making her shatter around me. I keep my lips right where they are, working her through her orgasm, while I look up and see that face I’ve dreamt of.
Her eyes are glassy as they roll back in her head and her mouth forms an ‘o.’ I commit it to memory.
“That was the best orgasm I’ve ever had,” Tessa confesses. “Now, I want to taste you.”
Tessa pulls me up and flips us so I’m the one sitting on the couch and she’s kneeling in front of me.
Her lips leave a trail of fire as they travel upwards from my abdomen, each kiss a promise of what’s to come. A shudder rips through me when I feel her breath ghosting over my skin, teasing and testing my resolve.
She strips my clothes and doesn’t hesitate before licking up my shaft.
It is fucking heaven.
I can die right now and be the happiest man in the world.
The world narrows down to the sensation of her mouth enveloping me. Warmth, wetness, pressure—every nerve ending sings as she takes me deeper, her tongue swirling.
“Tess…” The words slip out on a ragged breath.
She hums around me, the vibration sending waves of pleasure radiating through my body. My hands find their way to the couch, gripping the edge as if it’s the only thing anchoring me to reality.
Tessa’s pace quickens. I’m teetering on the edge, caught between wanting to surrender to the bliss and holding onto the moment, savoring the intimacy that we’re creating together.
I am going to need to build up some endurance.
“Tessa… I’m so close,” I manage to choke out, voice strained with the effort to remain coherent. Her gaze locks onto mine, hazel eyes alight with determination and something softer, a tenderness that wraps around my heart like a vine.
She sucks me deeper into her mouth and that’s all the sign I need.
I let go, tumbling into an ecstasy that’s all-consuming and profound, my body tensing as pleasure courses through me in waves. Tessa doesn’t falter, swallowing me as I come down her throat.
I pull Tessa close, her breath warm against my neck as our limbs entwine with an urgency that’s both wild and comforting. Every fiber of my being is attuned to hers, the rhythm of our hearts synchronizing. Her soft curves mold to my harder edges, and I’m struck by the perfection of this fit, of us together.
Her slender fingers trace the muscles of my back, sending shivers down my spine that have nothing to do with the cool air of the room. It’s like she’s sketching promises on my skin, pledges of affection that I feel deep in my bones. My hands are just as busy, memorizing the dips and rises of her body, every reaction I elicit from her etched into my memory.
“That was incredible,” I gasp, my voice hoarse with emotion. I bury my face in her hair, breathing in the scent that’s all her and that now and forever will mean home.
The warmth of Tessa’s skin mingles with mine, our breaths syncing in the quiet aftermath of shared passion. We lie entangled on the living room couch, her long red hair sprawled like a fiery halo around her head. This moment feels like a sealed secret between us.
Suddenly, the sound of keys jostles us to alertness. The click and turn of the lock is a sharp reminder that we are in the living room. We scramble up, urgency overtaking languid movements. I watch as Tessa frantically grabs her scattered clothing, tossing me my shirt with frantic hazel eyes that mirror the chaos of our situation.
“Shit, Emma’s back. She was supposed to be gone,” she hisses, sliding into her blouse with a speed that would impress a magician.
“Stay calm,” I murmur, pulling on my jeans in a rush. My shirt hangs awkwardly, buttoned wrong in my haste. There’s no hiding what was happening here, the evidence written all over the disheveled cushions and the flush on Tessa’s cheeks.
