Page 9 of Protecting His Brat
But just Scott’s eyes taking in every inch of my flesh, and, oh God, his drugging kisses, have put me teetering on the edge of a kind of pleasure only high-tech vibrators have been able to achieve. And the only thought in my head ismore, more, more.
“Look at this pretty pussy.” He strokes my soaked slit with two fingers, parting me slightly. “She’s practically pouting, she needs relief so bad.” Scott’s voice goes even rougher when he’s aroused. It’s something I’ve learned since becoming his unofficial boarder.
Every time I walk around in a towel or bend over in front of him, his voices gets this gritty quality I want to roll around in. That voice makes dirty promises, even when he’s talking about something as mundane as the plans he has for the apartment.
But he can’t know how I feel about his voice. Or his hard, muscle-packed body. Or his too-long hair which flops over his eyes in this way that makes me melt. Or how much I’m beginning to rely on his quiet strength and infinite patience. He can’t know any of that, so I hide it all behind attitude.
“Stop anthropomorphizing my vagina and get on with it.” My accompanying eye roll morphs from sassy to holy shit in a fraction of a second as his fingers sweep up and down my slit, grazing my throbbing clit.
“If you’re able to use words like anthropomorphizing right now, I’m obviously not doing my job right. Yet.”
I’m going to agree. Tell him how bored I am. How inept he is. Or some other complete and total lie, but the words die before they can even form. Because suddenly, there is only his tongue, and his lips, and his goddamn teeth doing the most erotic things between my legs. My hands fly to his hair, gripping the long, silky strands between my fingers. It might not be long enough to pull into a ponytail, but it is the perfect length to help steer his talented mouth to where I need it most. My core tightens, muscles coiling, waiting for some invisible force to snap and make me unravel.
A delicious pleasure unlike anything I’ve experienced before builds, each touch, lick, and nip stacking on top of each other like blocks, higher, higher, higher, until I’m wavering, right there on the edge of toppling, waiting for one little push to finish the job. But just as all the pleasure is about to crash down around me in a hail storm ofGod yes, Scott backs off, kissing my inner thighs, which are sticky with my arousal.
“What the fuck? I was almost there.” I’m whining. I know I am. It’s annoying even to my own ears, and just like so many other times in my life, I wish I could stop. But I don't know how. The only way I’ve ever gotten anything I needed was by scheming, whining, and throwing fits.
“Are you ready to beg for it?”
Propping myself up on my elbows, I look down at the man camping out between my legs. “I’m not going to beg for your cock.”
“We’ll see.” He dives back in.
I should be embarrassed by the wet noises happening down there. By the animalistic sounds spilling from my mouth. But I don't have enough brain power to be embarrassed.
The whole beard thing is an entirely new experience. All my past lovers were clean shaven, but the rough scrape of his short beard against my inner thighs as his mouth works me is indescribable. The soft, wet heat of his tongue toying with my pussy and the coarse hairs of his beard abrading the sensitive skin on my legs combine to make a symphony of sensations.
Every time I get to that magic line where I’m just about to tip over the point of no return, he backs off. My protests and whining quickly turns to begging. I hate that he was right, that I’m ready to beg him to stuff his cock inside me, anything so long as he lets me come. Everything is throbbing and aching with this need to let go.
“Oh God, stop toying with me, please.” I’m going to regret this tomorrow. Even through the veil of lust obscuring my vision, I know with complete certainty that this is a mistake. But in the wise words of Justin Bieber, I’m not perfect. I’m not a robot. “I need you inside me. Now.”
“Like this?” Two fingers spear into me. Scott smirks when I gasp and arch my back off the table, trying to thrust down onto his face and hand. “You want me to fuck your pretty pussy with my rough, low-class fingers?”
He sucks my clit into his mouth, and I scream, clawing at the edge of the table. My communication skills have been reduced to nothing but whimpers and moans, screams and grunts. Every ounce of class I once had has been left behind in favor of pure need.
You would think that is the end. That was the height of pleasure, but Scott finds some secret spot inside me that ratchets everything up one more notch.
“There it is.” He licks and sucks between words. “Look at me. I want you to watch as the man you wouldn’t give the time of day under normal circumstances makes you come like never before.”
There’s no reason to obey his order. I don’t obey anyone but myself. But the moment the words are past his lips, I find myself gazing down over my body. Locking eyes with him. The moment I’ve done as he says, Scott takes mercy on me and does this tongue flick, suck, bite, finger tap combination that makes me absolutely detonate.
I curl in on myself, grip the back of his head and hold his talented mouth tight against my sex, cross my ankles behind his shoulders. Despite how tightly I’m holding him, in reality, I’m letting go. Of my assumptions, my so-called standards, my world.
The world goes black and fuzzy around the edges, but not in a scary way like the other night. In an amazing way. I know I’m making noises no respectable socialite could ever fathom, but I can’t seem to care about that when my whole body, my whole world, feels like it has shrunk down to just the few inches between my thighs.
After god only knows how long, I slump back onto the table, panting and struggling to catch my breath. Delicately, Scott kisses my inner thigh. Then my hip. My ribs. Bottom slope of each breast. Collarbone. Temple.
Each brush of his lips against my skin sends a wave of contentment through me, and my chest constricts with an emotion I’m not at all familiar with.
“You up for more?” He thrusts his still covered cock against my inner thigh. It’s thick and hard, and yeah, I’m more than a little curious. This guy just blew my mind with his oral skills, so he must be making up for something in the sex department, right? It certainly isn’t his size.
“You really think you can top that performance? Wouldn’t you rather leave things on a high note than take me to that level of euphoria and then make me suffer through five minutes of lackluster sex? I could just lay here like this while you jack off. I’d probably get the same amount out of that as I would letting you shove your dick in me.”
Scott reaches up and shoves his thumb into my mouth, silencing my rambling. “You’ve got a sassy little mouth on you, don’t you?”
I nod, because, yeah, I do, and damn proud of it.
“There are so many things I want to do with this mouth.” He leans down, pinning my entire body against the smooth wood table. His lips brush against my cheek as he talks directly into my ear. “I plan to fuck this mouth.” He thrusts his thumb a little deeper between my lips, and I swirl my tongue around his thick digit. “I plan to kiss it until your lips are swollen and red. And I’m going to make you scream with it too. But not now. Right now, I’m going to prove how much of a pre-show warm up my tongue acrobatics were.”
