“You’re delicious. Much better than pumpkin ice cream,” I tease. Her face is flushed, her hair sticking to her damp forehead.
“You’re exhausting. I’ve had more orgasms in the past twenty-four hours than I’ve had in a year.” She quickly covers her mouth and closes her eyes, shaking her head back and forth as the words leave her lips and she tries to move off me. I put my hands on her waist and hold her.
“Don’t do that,” I say, noticing the tears brimming in her eyes. She looks away from me. “You don’t have to feel guilt for enjoying what we do.”
“I shouldn’t have said that … it’s disrespectful to him.”
Once again I lift her chin to look at me. “One, don’t break eye contact with me. And two, I want you to say whatever you’re thinking. You’re allowed to feel. I need you to feel.”
She’s quiet for a few moments and plays with my necklace, turning it over in her fingers.
“I’ve never been fucked on a table before.”
“You still haven’t been. I licked you, but I didn’t fuck you.”
She gives me a crooked smile. “Same thing.”
“Not at all. I can demonstrate the differences if you want.”
“No! Jesus.” She chews her lip and peeks up at me. “I’ve … you know … more than you have, though.”
Fuck she’s adorable. “Gotten off?” I say.
Her cheeks redden and she nods. “Yes.”
“I’m not keeping a scorecard, babe. If I want to make you come, I’m going to. If I want to get off, trust me, you will know it. If you want it, just ask. Is that what you’re hinting at? Do you want to get me off?”
“No … I just didn’t want you to be mad at me that you haven’t.”
I slide my hands under her shirt to cup her breasts. “I’m not one of those guys who thinks just because he gets a chick off that she owes him one back. The fun for me is making you come, watching you squirm, hearing you moan, tasting you, making you obey me and pushing your boundaries.” I roll her nipples between my fingers as I talk and watch her eyes flutter closed.
My cell phone vibrates in my pocket. What the fuck? Why can’t people leave me alone for one fucking day? I let out a frustrated sigh and pull it out to check the screen. It’s Lukas. Tabi groans a little when I put the phone to my ear.
“Hey,” I answer, knowing if I don’t talk to him he’ll psycho call me for hours until I prove I’m alive.
“Hey man, how’s it going?” he asks casually.