I nodded, though my heart was racing so loud I could barely hear him. I just watched in a mixture of fear and anticipation as he trailed his kisses lower, flipping up the hem of my skirt to reveal my white lace panties beneath it.
Clay fixed his eyes on me, then trailed one soft fingertip down the center of the fabric, the sensation so light it was a brutal tease against my aching clit.
“Clay,” I cried, my head falling back as my eyes closed.
“Fuck, Kitten,” he said next, his fingertips playing at the seam of my thong. “You fucking loved that, didn’t you? Being on your knees for me. You’re soaked.”
He slicked a finger through my wetness with the comment, and heat invaded my neck even though I opened for him more. I was as ashamed as I was aroused, and the latter won over.
“Yes,” I confessed.
“What did you like?” he teased, running the pad of his thumb over the fabric and back down again. It pressed the harsh lace against me, a burning friction that made me writhe with need. “Did you like how I tasted, how you gagged on my cock?”
“Yes,” I breathed, rolling my lips together as I squirmed beneath his touch. “And I loved when you came because of me.”
“All because of you,” he validated, and that made my nipples peak, made me light up with pride and power.
Clay lowered himself even more, until he was lying on his stomach with his elbows propped under my legs. I had no choice but to set my thighs on his shoulders, and my knees bent inward, because I was suddenly aware that my wet sex was right in his face.
“Don’t,” he said, stopping me before my knees could touch. He gently tapped the inside of each one until I let them fall back open. “I want to see you, Kitten,” he cooed. “I want to taste you.”
A breath of a moan fell through my lips as he did just that, keeping his eyes on me as he ran the flat of his tongue over the lace of my panties. He soaked whatever my pussy hadn’t already, wetting the fabric and using his tongue to press against it and rub a sweet friction over my clit.
“Oh, God,” I breathed, head falling back against the dome again. My hands shot out for his hair instinctively, but I tore them away, reaching for my sides, instead.
“Do it,” he said, grabbing one hand and moving it back to my hair. “Show me where.”
My fingers curled in the soft strands, and he enveloped me with his mouth again, licking from my seam up to my bud in a hot heat. I held him there at my clit, and he grinned against my bucking hips before swirling his tongue over the lace.
I moaned, pushing my hips up and toward him, seeking more.
“There?” he asked, flicking the bud with the tip of his tongue.
I nodded, wetting my lips before I dragged my teeth over the bottom one.
“Let’s get this out of the way, shall we?” Clay sat back on his elbows just long enough to tug at my panties, and I lifted my hips, helping him slide them down until he drew them off one leg and then the other.
He paused at my ankle, trailing up my knee-high stocking until he slipped a finger beneath the top of it.
“These drive me insane, you know,” he husked, taking his time crawling his hands back up to where I really wanted them. “Every time you wear them, I think of how many ways I could peel them off you.”
I knew he was faking. I knew he was just giving me the dirty talk he could clearly see I reacted to. But still, I lit up under those words as if they were the purest truth, as if I really could be sexy enough to drive a man like Clay Johnson to insanity.
He settled back in between my thighs, groaning when he had me open and right in his face. “Damn,” he breathed. “Such a pretty pussy.”
He ran his finger along the outer edges, tracing my lips and the sensitive area between my vagina and ass. I shivered at the touch, and then his hands gripped my thighs and pulled me into him.
His eyes found mine, and he lowered.
The first hot sensation of his mouth enveloping me without a barrier between us sucked me under like a rip current. I was helpless to even try to hold my composure as he did some sort of combination of sucking and licking that literally made my knees quake around him.
I let out something between a curse and a moan, something like a breathy prayer, and Clay smiled against my sensitive skin, pressing a lighter kiss to my bud.
“Tell me what you like,” he reminded me, and then his fingers gripped into my thighs as he lowered his mouth again.
It lit my entire body on fire, watching as he swayed his head gently, feeling his tongue slicking every centimeter of me. He ran it hot and flat along my seam before tightening it into a hard tip to flick it against my bud. He drew circles and lines, sucked and licked, moaned with a humming vibration that felt like having a vibrator in the best possible spot.
I couldn’t speak, couldn’t tell him anything. Instead, my hands weaved into his hair again, and I tightened my grip any time he paid attention to my clit.
“Mmmm,” he hummed against it, and I shook around him, my orgasm building more and more with every lash of his tongue. “What about this?”
He shifted his weight onto one elbow, the free hand trailing up the length of my stomach to rest between my breasts. His palm splayed my ribcage, and then he roughly shoved one cup of my bra up over my breast and palmed it.
I arched into the brute touch, gasping for air as that sensation rivaled with the wet heat of his tongue between my thighs. He massaged my breast as he licked me, then sucked my clit while his fingers tightened over my nipple and gave a gentle, twisting tug.
“Clay!”
I cried out his name and I didn’t know why. I didn’t know what I wanted. I didn’t know if I was desperate for him to stop or if I wanted even more. I squirmed beneath him as he held my thigh as steady as he could, continuing his assault on my pussy as his hand worked one breast and then the other.
The combination had me teetering on the edge of ecstasy, but something was missing.
“More,” I panted. “I need… more.”
“More,” Clay repeated, and his hand trailed down from my breast to between my thighs. He held my stare as that hand disappeared beneath me, and then I felt a fingertip pressing against my entrance. “Here?”
“Yes,” I begged.
With a devilish smirk, Clay slipped that finger inside me, all at once and to the very center of me. I cried out, but in the next instant, his mouth was on my clit again, sucking and licking as his finger withdrew and plunged inside me again.
He angled his wrist so he could curl that finger inside me, and as I shook and writhed beneath him, he added another.
It was everything I wanted. I was full, his fingers stretching me as his tongue pressed just the right amount of pressure where I needed it. That along with the sight of him burying his face between my thighs was too much to stay composed under.
“Rub your tits for me, Kitten,” he breathed against my skin, the breath cool where I was wet and hot. “Stroke yourself with me. Come for me.”
I had no choice but to obey, and when my fingers plucked at my pebbled nipple, I whimpered and moaned and squirmed and bucked my hips against his mouth. He met my eager request for more with an increased pressure, the sounds of him sucking and finger-fucking me the last thing that drove me over the edge.
I tumbled, spiraling as my orgasm soared through me. It burned like ice down my spine all the way to my toes, which curled as my legs shook so violently, Clay clamped his grip to hold me still. He never relented, driving his tongue in time with his fingers until the very last of my orgasm spilled through me.