“You should say it, Cassie.” Her hand is back where I can see it. My eyes follow loyally as her fingers come to her mouth. She sucks on them so hard her cheeks hollow out. “You should say it because, fuck, I taste good.”
I pull in a deep breath. My nipples are painfully hard watching Pia lick her fingers clean. My core is tightening all over again like the last two orgasms never happened. I want this. I want this so much.
“Fine,” I say resolutely. “Pia, please can I…Please can I eat your pussy?”
“Now, see,” Pia says, her self-satisfied smile wider than ever. “That wasn’t so hard.”
Buoyed by my pathetic achievement, or possibly just fed up with her teasing me, I move quickly, pushing her back and falling on top of her. I give her a quick, firm kiss, and then I find her arms with my hands and pin them above her head. It’s a confidence boost like no other when she gasps in surprise.
“I’m going to taste you now,” I tell her. “And you’re going to be a good girl and let me.”
Pia’s eyebrows lift.
“Unless, of course, you don’t want me to at any time, then you should definitely stop me.”
Pia’s laugh is loud and musical. It instantly makes me smile.
“What?” I ask, before laughing with her.
“You are fucking ridiculous and therefore fucking adorable.”
Pride swells in my belly and inside my ribcage. “And you are going to behave for once in your life so I can do what I want.”
“Finally,” Pia says as I keep my hands on her wrists but move my body down hers. “You’re learning.”
When I release Pia’s arms, I half-expect her to use them to extract herself from this position. But she doesn’t. She keeps them above her head, wrists on top of one another, and it makes something inside me expand like a balloon.
But then I reach my destination. The apex of her legs. She spreads them wide, giving me more space, and it tells me how ready and willing she is for this. Me, I am only one of those things. I am willing. So very willing. However, I am not ready. I should be. I’ve thought about doing this for years, but apparently fantasising and wondering about something is not the same as mentally preparing oneself.
It's just as well that my eagerness is so strong that it is a fair match for my sudden, paralysing fear. It keeps me crouched down between her legs, looking at the thick hair covering her pubic bone, at the hint of pink I spot and the way what I see reminds me of flower petals. Specifically, flower petals in the early morning, glistening with dew.
It takes me a moment to realise how laboured my breaths are, but I know Pia can hear my hefty inhales and jagged exhales when I feel her hand land on my shoulder.
“You don’t have to,” she says in a voice that doesn’t sound like hers. Or rather, it does, but just not a version of her I’m familiar with.I’d like to get to know that version better, I think, out of nowhere. I’d like to know all the different versions of Pia.
“I want to,” I reply. It’s my truth.
“But you don’t have to,” Pia repeats, sounding more like the version of her I already know. “You don’t need to prove anything to me. Or anyone else.”
I lift my head so I can catch her gaze. “What about myself?”
Pia smile is thin and wry. “Well, I can’t help there.”
“Actually, you can,” I say, and I lift her hand off me. I raise it above her head and then settle between her legs again. This time, a little closer. Close enough to smell her. Maybe that’s what I needed. To fill my nostrils with the sweet and salty tang of Pia’s pussy. Because all at once, my desire delivers a perfect sucker punch to my fear and I’m nothing but eagerness to touch, to taste, to commit her scent to my memory. “Keep your arms above your head, Pia.”
She doesn’t say anything. Not until I touch my tongue to her outer labia. Then all I hear is a long sigh, the kind someone makes when they hug a dear loved one they haven’t seen in years or when they eat food that is surprisingly delicious. In many ways, that’s what I feel I’m doing all at once. Because I am surprised by how good Pia tastes as my tongue begins to explore with my eyes closed. I’m surprised and enamoured all at once. At the softness, the slickness, the way there is always more to discover, and the way Pia makes a much deeper rumble of a sound when my tongue finds a hard little knot where I believe her clitoris should be. My suspicion is confirmed when I wrap my lips around it and kiss it, flicking my tongue over its peak. As I start to suck, I feel like it swells in my mouth, getting bigger and harder, and that urges me on just as much as Pia’s moans, which are indulgent and unfiltered.
“Keep going, English rose,” she tells me. “You’re good at this.”
I’m pleased my face is buried between her legs so she can’t see just how much her praise affects me. As happy as I am getting such a reaction from sucking on her clit, I move away and find her entrance. It feels hot and silky smooth and so very wet. That could be me; that could be her.
“Oh, yes,” Pia encourages me. “Put your tongue inside me. As far as you can. I want to squeeze it. I want to squeeze you.”
I do as she says, and so does she. And it all feels like a reward.
“Now your fingers,” she instructs. “Two. Stretch me.”
I adjust my position, redistributing my weight, and when I slide a finger inside her, I’m amazed how tight and strong she feels. I felt it on my tongue, but this is different. I’m so much deeper inside her, and her clenching is more intense, more intentional.