Page 20 of Misadventures of a Curvy Girl
Chapter Eight
Caleb
Ireland arches into my kiss, smiling into my mouth. “Yes,” she says happily. Excitedly. “All of it.”
I touch her again because I want to. I have to. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop. Her breath hitches when I run my fingertips over her belly, and I glance up at her face. She has her eyes closed now, as if she’s steeling herself for something. For my touch.
“Now that just won’t do,” Ben says silkily from above both of us. “Open your eyes, Ireland. Watch Caleb touch you.”
She blinks up at him and then over to me, her breath still stilted and her face uncertain. But she nods. “Okay.” She swallows. “Okay. Touch me.”
So I do. I touch the pale skin where the underside of her breast meets her chest. I trace down the slopes that lead to the sides of her waist. I stroke up to the middle and circle her navel, sunk like a deep well into her body, and then I move down to her lower belly with its gentle swell. And then—fuck—that plump pussy, the first time I’ve touched it. My cock jerks up as my fingers press into the giving flesh, and I groan, dropping my head onto her shoulder. She’s even better than those paintings, better than anything a teenage Caleb could have imagined. I roll my head down and start kissing a trail down her belly, nudging Ben aside so I can settle between her legs and kiss at her stomach more easily.
She gasps at every kiss, trying to shy away, but I don’t let her. I don’t let her roll to the side or try to cover herself. I kiss her belly button and the crease of the place where her thighs meet her hips. And soon I have my mouth where I want it: kissing along her secret silk curls to her pussy. Pressing my lips to the coy little seam hiding underneath.
It’s everything I can do to tease her like this, to keep my mouth soft and easy and almost chaste as I kiss the top of her mound and then at the sensitive skin on the outside of her cunt, where her thighs join to her body.
Because all I want to do is taste what’s mine.
I want to part her pussy and revel in all the sweet heat there, all the slick wetness that Ben and I have made, and I want to feel the slick, tight channel my cock is about to fuck. I want to feel the new place I’ll call home.
And even though I already knew, her pretty little gasps and stirs as I finally kiss her clit make it clear: this is for real. Which means one night won’t be enough by far.
The thought sends a surge of possessive lust bolting through me. I seal my mouth over her swollen bud in a savage suck that makes her cry out and has Ben giving a low hum of approval. Using my thumbs, I spread her open like the world’s best butterfly, pinning her lips apart so I can explore her. Her delicate inner folds and the tight hole tucked up inside them, all of it glistening in the dim light. Even like this, I can tell she’ll be the prettiest shade of pink inside here, the kind of pink a man dreams about when he’s got nothing but cold sheets next to him and a shameful fist.
I tongue and lick at her, like a boy with a county fair ice cream cone, trying to lick it fast before it melts in the sun. And Ireland is indeed melting, all of her shyness from earlier completely vanishing as her hands wind through my hair. Her thighs are warm and restless, pressing against me when she rubs my back with her feet, splaying open when she braces against the bed and tries to push her pussy against my face.
“He’s good at that, isn’t he?” comes Ben’s voice. It’s low and coaxing and just the tiniest bit cruel—it’s sin incarnate. I grind my cock into the bed at the sound of it.
Ben’s always been able to do that to me. Stir me up more, make me crazy, just with his words. And knowing that soon he’ll be talking like this while I’m pumping away between Ireland’s legs, well…it makes it hard for a man to be patient. I roll my hips against the quilt as Ben keeps talking over Ireland’s whimpers.
“He likes that cunt of yours, I can tell,” Ben remarks. “I can see the muscles in his ass flexing, and you know why? Because he’s fucking the bed, he’s that turned on. That turned on just from tasting you.”
“Oh,” Ireland breathes out. Her thighs are tensing and her belly too, and she’s getting close. So close.
Ben notices, of course. “You’re going to come, aren’t you? Because it’s just so good to have his mouth there making you feel good? Can you feel his beard when he kisses you? You’ll be feeling it tomorrow too, you know. You’ll be Caleb’s beard-burned little slut. Walking around in your pretty skirts with your pussy still swollen and marked up by him.”
“Oh God,” Ireland chokes out, falling total prey to Ben’s words and writhing against my busy mouth. “Oh my God.”
“You like that?” Ben probes, leaning down to run his nose along her pert chin and the apple of her cheek. “You want to be Caleb’s little slut?”
“I—both of yours,” she gasps.
“My slut too?”
“Yes,” she moans.
“Then be a good slut and come for Caleb. His cock is full of come to give you, but it needs you wet and tight, doesn’t it?”
Aw, shit. I’m practically boring a hole into this mattress I’m so fucking worked up now, and between Ben’s words and Ireland’s sweet pussy trembling against the flat of my tongue, I’m not sure if I’ll even make it to fucking her.
“Answer me, Ireland,” Ben says sternly.
I look up over the rise of Ireland’s curls to see that she’s cresting now, her entire body a tensed stretch of quivering curves.
“Doesn’t it?” Ben demands again, reaching out and collaring her throat with a hand to turn her face to his. And that’s all it takes—the combination of his filthy words and his hand at her throat and my devouring her pussy like I’ll never get to taste a woman ever again—and she’s right there, tipping over the edge.
“Yes,” she says in a cry, and then she releases against my lips, coming with a final small slick of sweetness and a helpless arch of her back. I’m too far gone to stop eating her, though, lost to the taste of her and the feel of her on my lips, and it’s Ben who pulls me away from her pussy by the nape of my neck.
