“The last time I had unprotected sex was about six years ago, but I can do you one better.”
“How so?”
“I haven’t eaten pussy since then either.”
The way he ate my pussy to heaven and back . . . I know he fuckin’ lyin’!
“You ain’t gotta lie, Knox.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“I find it a little hard to believe, but I suppose you don’t have a reason to lie either. Since we’re being honest, I got one that will top yours.”
“Let me hear it.”
“I’ve never sucked dick without a rubber covering it, which means I’ve never swallowed.”
“Never swallowed. That’s blasphemy. I’m glad you believe in being safe, but if my nut ain’t gon’ hit the back of your throat before settling in the pit of your stomach, we can skip that part. You too old not to swallow, Skye.”
“You’re nasty.”
“I am, and ain’t shit you can say or do to make me feel bad about. If you stick around long enough, I’ll show you just how nasty I am.”
We’d had sex no less than six times tonight, and my pussy still had the audacity to thump at his words.
“Are you hungry?” I asked, changing the subject.
“Is pussy on the menu?”
I smacked my lips and rolled my eyes.
“Can you be serious for a second? We fucked our way right through dinner, and my stomach is growling.”
“It’s because you didn’t suck my dick and let my nut settle in the pit of your stomach.”
I gasped before saying, “I’m going to the kitchen.”
I got out of bed, found an oversized T-shirt in one of my drawers, and put it on as I left my room. He eventually followed me, and I noticed he’d covered up that monster between his legs in some boxer briefs.
“All I can feed you at this hour is a turkey sandwich and barbecue chips,” I told him as I removed what I needed to make the sandwiches from the refrigerator.
“There’s something else you can feed me, but I’ll wait until breakfast for that. A turkey sandwich will do for now.”
I’d never be mad at a man who enjoyed dining on my pussy, so I let his comment slide because I didn’t want to say anything to make him think otherwise. He could eat my pussy forbreakfast, lunch, dinner, and as a snack in between if his heart desired.
He watched as I sliced four pieces of the sourdough loaf and placed them in the toaster. While I waited for them to be toasted to perfection, I got two paper plates from the pantry, put them on the counter, and poured some chips for each of us. When the bread was toasted, I placed two slices on each of our plates.
“You want mayo or honey mustard?” I asked.
“Honey mustard, please.”
I squeezed honey mustard onto our bread and spread it with a knife until it was evenly dispersed. I took some turkey from the package and layered it onto the bread, then asked him what kind of cheese he preferred.
“Cheddar or pepperjack?”
“Cheddar.”
A few minutes later, our sandwiches were ready, topped with lettuce, tomato, and sweet pickles.