Never Sweeter(55)

She had sleepwalked through sex before now, and here was the waking truth. A hot, sweet ache that unfurled low down in her belly, and spread and spread and spread through the rest of her until she barely cared if anyone heard. She had to tell him, at least, how good this felt. Only when she went to do it, something more like a sob came out. A sobbed, broken sort of thank-you.

Then a yes and a now and a more.

Oh god, she would have given anything for more. Nothing was ever going to be enough from here on out. She would never be able to look at him again and not want this pulsing, shivering pleasure. She was done for, doomed, destroyed, and he knew it.

She could tell by the way he teased her, tongue dancing around her clit until it felt as though that little nub was straining. On the verge of bursting. After a minute of this insane torture she pushed back against himlike some beast in heatbut that only made it worse. He sat back as soon as she did, a half laugh on his lips. Words spilling out of him that sent her even deeper into the red. “You want to come, huh? You want to do it all over my mouth? Ohhhh yeah, you do, you do, look how swollen your clit is. Look at how wet you are. You want to see how wet you are? Come here, baby, lick these fingers. Taste your sweet pussy for me.”

But the most horrendous part was: she did it.

When he offered her his fingers, slick with her honey, she twisted her body and opened her mouth to accept them gratefully. Even greedily, if she was being honest. The look on his face told her how she must have seemed as she did itthose low-lidded eyes rolling up as she sucked eagerly, lips parting to let out a soft moan. And when he spoke again his voice was hoarser, rougher.

“Is it where we are? Or is it me?” he asked, and she answered with the truth.

“It’s you. It’s just you. It’s always you.”

That was all it took. There was no more teasing after that, no more hesitation. He just pushed his face between her legs, tongue lapping firm and insistent over her taut bud. One stroke, two, three and she was there, back arching, body shuddering, moans jammed tight against the bars of her gritted teeth. In the middle of it she might have even reached back to grab his head, forcing him to keep going and going.

Not that she needed to. He carried on licking long after the point where she couldn’t take itjust like before, only so, so much more. Now it was completely unbearable and completely incredible at the same time, cramming more and more pleasure into her until she was sure there couldn’t be room for anything else. That was it, that was all, and then he fucked two fingers into her tightly clenched pussy again and fuck fuck fuck.

She made a mess of his face. She knew she did; she felt it running down her thighs.

She saw it on him when he stood, all of it gleaming on his lips and chin.

Though she soon forgot about it, in light of the words he fumbled out. They were broken, those words, stuttered and too desperatebut all the better for it. “Is it okay to finish in your mouth?” he asked.

And she didn’t even hesitate.

She was on her knees in front of him before he’d even finished speaking, hands shaky but capable on his bared cock. The cock he must have been stroking as he licked her. The cock that stuck out like a a fist, swollen and slippery with pre-come, so ready to burst that she barely had to put a hand on him before it jerked and shot the first streamer of liquid over her lips. She had to quickly part them around that thick head to catch the rest, sucking and licking in an effort to make it as good for him as it had been for her.

Though she didn’t need to.

His moans were high and desperate and much too loud, punctuated with the kind of praise she could have come over. “Good girl, get me off, take it, take my hot load,” he groaned, barely sensible of what he was saying but all the better for it. She would remember those words forever, in every fuck session she participated in from then on. Other guys might come and go, but nothing would ever be sweeter than this:

Tate Sullivan saying the filthiest things, and turning them into bliss.





Chapter 17


She wanted to say something to him on the way back to her dorm. Something lighthearted, maybe, or at the very least grateful. But when she went to speak, nothing came out. Her lungs were suddenly full of sawdust and simply couldn’t supply the necessary air. She could barely even lift her feet to take the next step, in truth. Every part of her was limp and weak, from her noodle arms to her rubbery legs.

And as for her face…

She knew how it looked. She made an effort to keep her expression neutral, but failed on every conceivable level. Her mouth just refused to close. The distraught frown wouldn’t leave her face. All her features were set to shell-shocked, and nothing could change that.