She gasped in pleasure. It was always about pleasure, always about multiple orgasms. And Josiah had her teetering at the edge, had her clinging on to the toe-curling sensations. “Yes, yes, yes, my love,” she cooed. “mijn kut likken…” (lick my cunt) “…het plagen…” (tease it) “….maken het graag…” (make love to it).
He had no fucking clue what she was saying, but he loved hearing her speak in her native tongue. It sounded hot. And it made him hotter. Made him harder. He held in a curse. Goddamn, shit, fuck.
“Mmm, baby…you taste so good,” he murmured, his voice vibrating over her labia. He licked her slowly, savoring every part of her sex; her exotic scent rising, her slick juices pouring out over his tongue and fingers.
Oh God…his tongue. His lips. His mouth. The way he caressed her pussy with loving care made her want to talk dirty to him. She felt the pleasure escalating. She looked down at him between her legs and licked her glossed lips. He looked so delectable kneeling before her, praising her, worshiping her.
It was a glorious sight to behold, him pulling her lips apart, capturing her clit with his mouth, his eyes closing as he reached between his own thighs and began to stroke himself with one hand, bringing himself to the edge, while his other hand, fingers pushing inside her, stroked her to sweet bliss.
Josiah loved her pussy. And he loved pleasing it. Eating it. Fucking it. If he could crawl in and spend the rest of his life in it, he would. That’s what he’d told her once. And those words stuck with her. She wasn’t in love with him. She lusted him. Deeply cared for him. But love? No, no, no. She loved his tongue. Loved his touch. Loved his cock.
Nairobia’s scent was stronger, sharper with arousal. A blast of heat shot over the crown of his cock as he stroked himself. He groaned, desperate to hear her beg him to fuck her. More blood rushed through his shaft. His dick was thick and hard and aching, impatient. Nairobia inflamed him. She unraveled him. He wanted to rise up and push himself inside her, wanted to fuck himself into her sweet channel, become engulfed in her wet flames.
But only if she demanded it, only if she—
She moaned. Spread her thighs wider, offering more of herself to him. He slid his hands beneath her, cupping her ass, then brought her cunt up to his mouth like a bowl filled with liquid cherries. She gasped in expectation, in burning want. Then he stuck his tongue in her ass and licked her on the verge of an orgasm, before running it up the slit of her pussy to her clit.
Two fingers entered her as he licked over her clit.
“Yes, my darling, yes…mmm…aaaah…oooh, ja, ja, ja…!”
She closed her eyes, inhaling her sweet scent as Josiah pulled her open and stroked his fingers back inside her wetness, then slow pulling out and smearing his fingers up and down and over her clit, before sucking it into his mouth.
Nairobia gasped. An orgasm sizzled hot in her belly. This beautiful specimen before her, between her legs, tongue wedged between her sweet, puffy lips, was about to bring her to ecstasy. She was right there, hanging on the cusp of a delicious orgasm when her cell rang. She cursed it a thousand times over.
But instead of allowing it to roll over to voicemail, she answered it, breathlessly, without looking at the number. “Ja?” she rasped, a mixture of annoyance and delight coloring her tone.
“Hey, beautiful,” the voice on the other end crooned.
Nairobia moaned in the back of her throat and melted into her boy-toy’s hungry mouth. The sound of her caller’s voice used to always made her weak with want. “Ooh, ja, ja. Mmm…” Josiah licked her pussy with deep, long strokes. “Hallo, my darling, MarSell…”
He laughed. “Damn, baby. Sounds like I caught you at a bad time. What are you doing?”
Nairobia moaned again. “Met mijn kut gegeten.”
Marcel didn’t know much Dutch. But he knew enough to know it had something to do with her pussy. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He missed the feel of being inside her. His dick stirred in his Armani slacks. It had been over a year since he’d had Nairobia’s pussy stretched over and around his dick. Her pussy was like heated velvet. Silky, wet walls that lovingly gripped and pulled and milked a hard dick, his dick, to orgasm.
Seeing her in his studio over a week ago, after so many months, had him wanting her, had him needing her. Since his wife’s murder, he hadn’t needed or wanted release with anyone as bad as he wanted, needed, it from Nairobia. He wanted to get lost in the heat of her insides again. Bad. He’d fuck her raw. Nut in her sweet, tight cunt, then lick her clean.
If only for a night.
She moaned again. “Damn, baby. What, you getting fucked?” he asked, feeling his dick stretch and come alive.