"This is my first meal of the day."
“Ha! You do look hungry, Tom… ahhh! What do you?—"
My words die in my throat when he parts my folds and drags his tongue along my slit. Oh Jesus. This feels so good.
I grab the doorknob, needing something to hold on to, but Tom has other ideas. He drapes my leg over his shoulder, exposing me further to him, and wastes no time planting open-mouthed kisses along my pussy. Just when I thought it couldn't possibly feel any better, he flattens his tongue on my clit.
Whatever coherent thought I had flies out the window. My stomach trembles, my legs turn to jelly, but Tom holds me up like I weigh nothing, basically not letting anything get in the way.
I don't know what kind of magic he works with his tongue, but colors dance when I close my eyes. He alternates between sucking on my clit, licking my slit, and slipping his tongue into me.
“So, so good, Tom don’t...” I’m not sure what my mouth is saying; it’s moving, and I hear my own sounds, but I have no idea what I am saying.
I don't want this to end, but I also know I'm careening towards something. Something I can’t pull back from. Tom's face inbetween my thighs. I cannot bring myself to care about anything except the fact that his tongue just works wonders on me. In and out of my pussy, across my clit, along my inner thighs.
"Oh, God. Tom, I?—"
He doesn't stop or even slow down. One hand leaves my hip and slides up my thigh. He wriggles it between us and hooks one thick finger into my pussy. And I actually squeal. Vision blurs white at the edges. My hand tightens in his hair, and he groans against me. That sound, that vibration. I push my hips down onto his finger.
"Tom, I-I'm coming. Tom!"
His curled finger pressing inside me while his tongue flicks and circles my clit makes my entire world narrow to this moment, this sensation, and this man on his knees making me fall apart. He sucks lightly on my clit, again and again, and I lose it — then taps rapidly with two fingers until I'm shaking.
"Oh God, oh God. Yes!"
I come so hard my legs wobble, limp and boneless. My chest heaves, and I smile as the orgasm recedes. My head falls backward. Eyes see the ceiling but hardly register where I am. Tom's hands catch me, hold me up, keep me exactly where I am.
Maybe where I belong.
5
TOM
Three hours since I left her apartment, and I can still taste her. That's the problem. Not that it happened—though that's also a problem—but that I can't stop running my tongue over my bottom lip trying to find the ghost of it.
Tate kicked me out. Literally pushed me toward the door with her hands still shaking and her face still flushed. She said she had a delivery coming, which was the worst lie I've ever heard, and I've heard a lot of lies. I let her kick me out because I was still slightly dazed myself.
So I left, came back to Sullivan's, and poured whiskey for breakfast.
Jason takes one look at me and starts laughing.
"Shut the fuck up, Jason."
"I didn't say anything."
"You're thinking it."
Jason wipes down the bar, smirking. "I'm thinking a lot of things right now, man."
I drain the whiskey and pour another. The burn doesn't help.
"So." Jason waggles his eyebrows. "Want to tell me what happened, or should I just keep guessing?"
"Nothing happened."
"Right. That's why you've been staring at her window more than usual."
"I haven't?—"