Page 30 of The Groupie

He gives a muffled chuckle as his mouth reaches my neck and lower. “That’s my line, Buttercup. You tempt me in so many ways that I can’t even decide where to start right now.” He glances up at me, and I see it as my duty to solve his problem.

“Let me help you decide.” I drag his hand from the side of my face where he planted it to my breasts, and he wastes no time slipping it under my sweater to find the plump needy nipples and tweak them through my sheer bra. I let out a needy moan and press myself into him.

He captures my mouth, swallowing my next moan as he kneads my breasts and then lowers his hand, fluttering his fingertips across the hypersensitive skin of my abdomen.

I groan. “You’re doing it… the way I did it to you.”

“Except you’re not laughing.”

“Because you’re doing a lot better than tickling me,” I admit. He shifts to sit up, and in one smooth motion, lifts my sweater off, then unhooks my bra and releases my breasts, removing the garment and tossing it away.

“You have the most perfect tits I’ve ever seen, and I consider myself a connoisseur.”

“Is that right?” My long-held wary instincts tell me not to believe him, to chalk it up to dirty talk in the moment, the kinds of things a guy says to a woman he’s about to fuck into oblivion. But something in me buds, pokes through the wariness and wants to believe him—before I smash the dangerous bud, pulverizing it before it does any harm.

* * *

“I have all kinds of interesting body parts if you want to take the rest of my clothes off and see.”

He growls in response and kisses his way down from my nipples to my belly button, licking it like it’s a treasure he’s claiming, raising the hairs of my tender skin there, and all the nerve endings attached to them dance like wild ballerinas.

“I’m starving for a taste of you.” His mouth reaches the edge of my groomed pussy, and he inhales deeply. “You smell like the best meal of my life. You’re so hot and juicy.” He looks up. “I think I’ve acquired a taste for the rare delicacy of Rylee…” He frowns. “I don’t even know your last name.”

I grip the back of his head and press his face into my lower belly. “Never mind the distraction. I need you to eat me like I’m your last meal.” He chuckles as he opens his mouth over my mound, and his tongue darts over my seam, flicking my clit and sending a spasm of pure ecstasy through my nervous system.

“You’re like a fucking drug, so damn addictive, so…”

I suck in a breath as he goes from kissing to laving my swollen and needy folds, making appreciative noises as his tongue darts around, circling the central bundle of hot nerves like they’re a live wire to be avoided.

“Pleeease…” I can’t stand the desperation in my voice, and maybe he hears it, too, because he grips my thighs and presses his mouth down, kissing and then sucking the hypersensitive nub into his mouth, nipping and then licking and making me shudder as the sensations rise in me to that impossibly satisfying crescendo like hitting the peak of a big air jump, and I come crashing down, blind and frozen in the throes of electrifying pleasure.

He licks me once more from top to bottom, sucks every drop left from me and then rises, climbing up my body, his arm and chest muscles bulging as they work, until his face hovers above mine, his mouth glistening with my juices. I automatically reach out to touch his face, to wrap an arm around him to hold him to me a he lowers his mouth into a kiss. I’m surprised he doesn’t have some wise guy quip, but I’m not disappointed as his warm lush lips rain kisses on my mouth and cheeks and eyes.

“Come inside me,” I say, breathless from his shower of affection, drained from my orgasm, but still needy, still wanting everything he has to offer. I’m all too aware that there’s a clock ticking on this pleasure train, an end of the line when I’ll have to jump off.

His mouth reaches my earlobe, and he nibbles, and like everything he does to me, it sends my nerves skittering, makes me want more.

“What makes you think I’m ready?” he says, his hot breath fanning my ear and raising gooseflesh all over my neck. My pussy gets the message he’s sending, pulsing with anticipation.

I reach a hand down and take his cock, long and like silk-covered iron as it throbs in my hand. My fingers go to his tip where I find creamy pre-cum, and I groan as I spread it around and squeeze. He groans.

“I officially pronounce you ready.”

“Buttercup, you have no idea.” He covers my hand with his and removes it. “I want to be inside you before I explode.” He lifts himself slightly and reaches over me to his nightstand. I pull him back.

“What are you doing? No condoms. That’s not our thing. I thought we agreed.” My heart speeds up faster than before, and harder, like it’s going to hammer through my rib cage if I don’t calm down. I have no idea what I’m saying or why. We don’t have a thing. Because that would mean there’s an us. And there’s not.

He stops and watches me, and I have no idea what he’s seeing or thinking, except his eyes are troubled. I reach up and caress his face as he settles back down, half over me, half beside me, our skin sticking together and the heat of it against me reminding me of what I want.

“I mean—”

“I know what you mean.” He takes a quick breath. “And I like it. I’m all in—so to speak.” Then he beams that infectious grin, and relief mixes with concern that we’re on a different page than I had planned, than we should be, or that he thinks we are. I’m sure about where I am with him. Here and now. That’s it.

He proves me right by settling between my legs then lifting me and rolling us so I’m on top, perfectly poised atop his stiff and ready cock.

“You ready to go for a ride, Buttercup?”

“I’m so ready I don’t even mind that you keep calling me Buttercup.” I smirk and he chuckles. Then he gets serious and lifts me, maneuvering himself to spear me right through the pussy, and I feel every hard inch of him glide inside, feel myself closing around him all the way until he hits my wall, and I see stars. I let out a gasp and lean forward.