He winked before continuing his travel. His tongue traced my hip bones as he sank to the floor, yanking me to the edge of the bed.
“Show me your god skills.” I grabbed a pillow, propping it under my head, so I had access to the show.
“As you wish.” He grabbed my feet and placed them on his shoulders, baring me to his heated stare.
The cool air of the room chilled my hot flesh, showing me just how wet I was for him. I squirmed when he continued to stare.
“Beautiful.” His voice held a hint of awe, and my stomach flipped.
No feelings, Rachel.
He traced my wetness with the tip of his finger before bringing it to his lips. He swirled his tongue over his finger, collecting it all. We watched each other in the most erotic dance I’d ever been involved in.
“Delicious.”
I thought he was going to dive in. Bradford was the only person who’d ever gone down on me, and he did it with vigor. Not Mr. Easton. He savored me like I was a fine dining experience.
His fingers glided over me.
“Please,” I begged, needing him to do something.
“Patience,” he responded.
When I huffed in reply, he chuckled, the puff of air tickling my sensitive flesh.
Then he licked me. He flattened his hot, wet tongue and licked me from back to front.
“Oh, my god.” I arched off the bed.
His thick forearm braced my hips against the mattress.
His tongue traveled the same path over and over again, changing speed, pressure, tempo. And I knew with certainty he was cataloging every hitch in my breath, every moan, every nuance.
His forearm clenched over my waist when he inserted a finger.
“Holy shit,” I moaned.
He slowly fingered me, pushing his digit in and out before adding another.
The room was quiet except for our labored breathing.
Mr. Easton continued cataloging my reactions, his fingers finding a tempo curated from the gods themselves. He stroked my G-spot, circling my clit with his miraculous tongue.
The pressure of his tongue and his fingers worked in tandem. My breathing expelled when he did something magical with his fingers, hitting a spot that was more mythical than a unicorn.
“Come for me,” he ordered.
I wanted to tell him it was hard for me to climax through oral, and his command wasn’t going to magically make me come, but he proved me wrong.
Heat scorched every nerve ending, starting from my toes and the top of my head until both reached the apex of my body where Mr. Easton was playing me like only he could.
I exploded. My body clenched around him. I could feel my clit pulsating over his lips, and if I was aware of my surroundings, I would have clocked the smirk gracing my clit.
His fingers continued their rhythm, making sure he had every last bit of my orgasm before slowly pulling them out and placing a chaste kiss on my clit.
He stood, his erection about to blast out of his pants. I watched, spent on the mattress, my breath heaving as he sucked his fingers clean.
“I need you,” I told him.