Page 64 of Risks of Temptation
I'm putty in his hands, unable to stop the sounds that come out of me.
His expression gets cockier with every moan and whimper flying out of my mouth.
The air becomes more humid. Pellets of sweat break out on my skin. He leans into my ear and in English says, "I'm hungry for your pussy. Has anyone ever eaten it?"
My mouth goes dry, and my insides quiver. I admit, "No."
"Tell me you want me to lick it."
No part of me doubts I want it. "Ask me in French."
He rattles it off.
"Yes. Lick my pussy," I whisper, feeling a slight high from talking dirty. I don't recall ever saying that word out loud before.
He groans and drags his tongue from my lips, down my neck, over my cleavage, and down my stomach. He flicks it once on my clit.
I jump. "Oh God!"
He says something in French, his expression smug while glancing at me.
My hand shakes, and I touch his face. He sucks on my finger then places it in his hair. He takes my other hand and puts it there, too.
"Tell me again what your pussy wants, ma belle," he says in English and then follows it up in French.
"Lick my pussy," I beg, enjoying how it rolls out of my mouth and the look he gets in his eyes when I say it.
He throws my legs over his shoulders, digs his fingers into my hips, and holds me firm to his face while his mouth ravishes my sex.
"Oh God!" I cry out.
"Say my name, ma belle," he orders me.
"French," I pant.
He obeys, repeating it, then flicks his tongue so fast on my clit, my eyes roll.
"Malin...oh...oh... Malin," I scream, gripping his hair tight, writhing against his mouth.
His groan echoes throughout the jungle, and he holds my hips firmer, sucking me, then muttering French. He glides his tongue down and slides it in my hole while moving his hand and rolling his thumb over my marbled nub.
My body has never experienced this kind of pleasure. His mouth and fingers become a bomb, detonating pleasure in every atom of my existence. When it slows, he fires another missile.
"Oh God! Malin!"
He grunts, shoving his tongue in farther, splaying his hand on my mound while pushing his thumb harder and circling faster.
Everything becomes white. He reaches up with his free hand and tugs on my nipple.
When I come down, I can't stop shaking. He lunges up my body, moves my wet hair off my forehead while speaking French, then possessively holds my head. His lips meet mine as he mutters the last word.
My orgasms are fresh on his tongue. I roll my tongue in his mouth, surprised at how I taste and how it makes me hungrier.
I bend my legs and reach for his pants.
He holds my wrists, saying something in French.
"Please," I whisper.
