Would it be wrong to rub myself against his abs to get off?
Nope, I decide.
He slides a hand under me, unhooks my bra, and tears it off with his teeth.
“Oh my god,” I gasp.
He gathers my breasts in his large hands, thumbs still teasing my nipples, pushes the girls together, and licks the underside of my breast.
My hips buck.
He does it again, going all the way up to my nipple and sucking it into his mouth hard enough that I feel a jolt of lust ping from deep in my breast and straight to my throbbing clit.
“Oh, god, Tyler.”
“Delicious,” he murmurs, his words tickling my overly sensitive skin while he licks and kisses and sucks on the very neglected part of my chest, pinching and teasing and sucking on my nipples while I fling my other leg around his ribs. My clit is tingling and begging for the attention it’s not getting with this angle. My vagina is aching. He could probably make me come just by telling them they’re both beautiful.
I’m chanting his name.
He shifts, his fingers trailing lightly down my ribs as he kisses a line from my breasts to my navel.
I try to suck it in, but does it matter?
His tongue dips into my belly button while he gently unhooks one of my legs, and then he’s tackling the button on my jeans.
I’m still gripping his hair.
Are these my tight jeans?
Is this about to get awkward?
Does he— “Oh my god,” I gasp again.
It’s like he knows when I start thinking too hard, and he knows my nipples are my brain’s off button.
Nothing else matters.
Not that he has to tug to get my jeans off.
Not that I’m suddenly exposed and bloated and I can’t remember if I shaved my bikini line.
All that matters is that he’s kneeling above me, parting my knees, spreading my legs to gaze down at my most intimate parts, his eyes hot and dark and hungry while he licks his lips.
Tyler Jaeger wants to eat me out.
He bends to capture my lips in a searing kiss, like he’s claiming me, like he’s saying you are my prize and I am here to collect every last drop.
He strokes me from my opening to my clit, and I whimper and almost come off the bed.
“Tell me what you like,” he orders, and then his mouth is on me again, but this time, he’s licking me between my legs, his hands on my inner thighs, holding them open while he draws lazy patterns with his thumbs, his tongue going places no man has gone before.
Sure, I’ve touched myself.
But getting myself off and trusting someone else with my body are completely different.
I didn’t trust him that night at the club.
But tonight?
Right now?
I would trust him to guide me across a tightrope while I’m blindfolded.
Which might be exactly what he’s doing with my body.
Every lick is heaven. When he sucks on my clit, I see stars. I’m gasping his name. Probably a few other things too. I can’t actually hear myself.
Everything is shut down except my pleasure centers, and they’re lit up brighter than the sun, concentrated between my legs, where everything inside me is coiling so tight that I’m almost in physical pain.
“C’mon, Muffy,” he whispers to my clit, his breath landing on my exposed, swollen skin like the flutter of a butterfly wing. “Come for me. Let go. Come for me, baby.”
He grazes me with his teeth, and I shatter.
I think I scream his name.
My hips are bucking out of control, my thighs straining while the most powerful orgasm of my life rips through me.
I think I’m levitating.
And he’s still eating my pussy, coaxing my exposed nerves higher and harder as the waves of pleasure crash and crescendo in my core.
I can’t feel my feet.
I don’t know my name.
I don’t even know what a name is.
I’m one with the universe, and I’m holding the entire universe in my pussy all at the same time.
I am the Big Bang.
I am love. I am fear. I am religion.
I am the goddess of every orgasm to ever exist.
I am clearly hallucinating, but oh my god, this is—this orgasm is the supreme, ultimate pinnacle of human existence.
“Oh my god, am I dead?” I gasp as my body settles into soft aftershocks.
Tyler presses a soft kiss to my very center, then to each of my thighs. “Yes.”
“Good. That is definitely how I wanted to die.”
28
Tyler
Once again, my dick hurts so bad that I wonder if it’s possible to break it from overextension, but honestly?
I wouldn’t care.
I’m laying with my head on Muffy’s belly, her taste on my lips, inhaling her spicy scent, while she runs her fingers through my hair.
And I don’t think she realizes she’s doing it.
“Is it normal to see the Milky Way when you come?” she asks.
“The candy bar or the galaxy?”
“The galaxy made up of the candy bars.”
“Maybe. I see planets made of pizza when I come.”
Her breath is evening out, and my head bounces on her stomach when she laughs. “What kind of pizza?”
“Chicago deep dish. Pepperoni, sausage, olives, mushrooms, and banana peppers, with extra cheese.”
“Oh my god. I think I just drooled. Can we get one of those now? Oh my god. It’s like sex is marijuana. It gives me the munchies.”
I chuckle and kiss her soft skin. God, I love her.
Oh, fuck.
Fuck.
What the fuckity fuck?
“I should offer to munch on you but I can’t move,” she says. “Can I offer to munch on you when I can move again? I’ve watched YouTube videos. I know what I’m supposed to…”
She trails off with a yawn, and a moment later, a soft snore escapes her lips.
Her hand slides off my head and flops to the bed.
Yep.
She’s out cold.
I should move. My legs are hanging off the bottom of the bed. The cat’s climbing onto my ass. I need to rub out this boner.
Convince myself I’m confusing oral sex with love and that Muffy’s simply a good friend.
But I don’t want to do any of that.
I want to stay right here. With her belly as my pillow and her breathing as my music, knowing I’m the only man whose name she’s ever screamed, the only man to ever make her come.
Rufus kneads my ass, his claws digging through my jeans, and he hits the spot over my tailbone where Muffy clocked me with the door this morning.
Jesus.
That was this morning.
Maybe that’s why I don’t want to move.
Long day.
But that’s not it.
That’s not it at all.
Truth?
I just want to be with Muffy.
It’s all I’ve wanted from the first time I noticed her hanging out at Chester Green’s.
Her kind of special speaks to something buried deep inside me that I haven’t let out in years.
Rufus hits my bruise again, and I lift my head to glare at him.
He makes eye contact with me, misses my butt with his next attempt at kneading, and falls off me.
Muffy mumbles something about snowplows and chicken feathers, then shivers.
She’s completely naked except for her socks, her skin whisker-burned where I kissed her, goosebumps popping up in patches. I push off the bed, and she instantly rolls to her side, curling in, shivering.