“What else?” she moaned.
“Fuck, Tate, what did I do to deserve you?” his voice sounded strained. She chuckled.
“Nothing, yet. Keep talking, please,” she begged, her other hand joining the first as she gently eased a finger in to her opening.
“The demure sister rode my cock for a while, while slutty girl let me see how many fingers I could fit inside of her. Then they traded places,” he continued. Tate moaned, pushing her hips in to the air. She dragged one hand away, brought it to her hair and pulled a little.
“Get to the part with the ropes,” she gasped.
“Tatum, naughty girl, you want me to tie you up, don't you?” Jameson asked.
“I want you to do whatever you fucking want,” she said, and then cried out, pushing two fingers inside.
“Good answer. I didn't have any rope, I had to use the slutty one's tights. I tied her down flat to the mattress, to the legs of the bed. Bent the demure one in half right beside the other girl and fucked her as hard as I could.”
“Oh my god, did you talk? Did you talk to them the way you talk to me?” the words rushed out of Tate, her voice sounding like she was almost whining. His story, the picture he was painting, was getting her so hot, she almost didn't need her hand to help her get off.
“Oh no. No, I reserve that for people that I think can actually handle it. That's why sex has always been better with you – I can always be myself,” he told her in a whisper. She moaned again, long and low, her fingers thrusting in and out of herself.
“I'm glad,” she whispered, the hand in her hair going behind her head, gripping onto edge of the island.
“Not to say that boring, old, regular sex doesn't help pass the time. After demure one came apart all around me, I moved onto slutty one. Left her tied up, so I could do anything I wanted to her,” Jameson's voice was almost menacing sounding.
“What did you do?” Tate's voice was starting to shake. She didn't want to come, not without him inside her, but she couldn't stop her fingers.
“What do you think I did?” he asked.
“Did you go down on her?” she asked, and then held her breath.
“No. I don't do that for just anybody,” he informed her. It made her happy to hear it, he hadn't done that for her yet.
“I noticed.”
“You want me to go down on you, Tate?” he asked.
“I don't care.”
“I consider that a very big favor. It's quite a treat for me to give. You would owe me, big time,” he told her. She shook her head.
“Obviously, I don't need your favors,” she managed to chuckle, but it turned in to a gasp as a tremor ripped through her body, forcing her hips in to the air again. She was so close ...,
“What the the fuck did you just say to me?” Jameson snapped. She smiled, pressing her knees together.
“God, yes, talk to me like that,” she moaned, her fingers moving fast, running a race against him.
“Shut the fuck up and stop moving,” he ordered. She shook her head.
“Can't. Sorry,” she whispered, her breathing beginning to hitch.
She hadn't heard him move, but suddenly she felt his hand on her knee. She turned her head forward and opened her eyes to find him staring down at her. He slid his hand between her thighs, moving them apart. She finally pulled her hand free of her bottoms, but he grabbed her by the wrist and raised her hand to his face, wrapping his lips around two of her fingers. She moaned again, scratching the nails of her free hand down her thigh. His tongue swirled around her sticky sweet fingers, and then he slowly pulled them free.
“You always need my favors, Tatum,” he informed her, dropping her hand and then grabbing her by the hips, pushing her back along the counter. Her legs stretched out, till her calves were resting against the edge.
“Yes, yes, I do,” she groaned.
“Beg me,” he ordered.
“Anything. Do anything. Just please, touch me, something, anything,” she begged.
He hooked his hands under knees and yanked them up. She planted her feet flat while he wrenched her thighs wide apart. A shudder ran down her body while his fingers dug in to her flesh. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she felt his teeth against her inner thigh. Biting his way down, his tongue softening the blows. His breath was hot against her damp bikini bottoms and she wiggled her hips in anticipation.
“A very big favor,” he reminded her, his fingers creeping across her skin. She laughed.
“I didn't ask for any favors,” she told him.
“You're about to get one.”
He roughly pulled the crotch of her bottoms to the side and then his mouth was on her. She cried out, her hands instantly going to his hair. His tongue made one long sweep up her center, cutting her like a knife. Her thighs shook, and she felt like her holding onto him was the only thing keeping her from flying off the island top.
The man wasn't all talk; his tongue moved expertly around her – she may have met her match in the oral sex department. Her breathing cranked back up and she started making harsh sounds in the back of her throat. Whining. Moaning. Panting. All of the above.
“God, I don't think I've ever tasted a pussy as sweet as yours,” he groaned against her, running his hands over her breasts and then clawing them back down her body. “I didn't think there could be anything better than fucking it, but this is pretty close.”
“I aim to please,” Tate whispered, pulling at his hair.
His tongue was back at it, this time joined by two of his fingers. Tracing up and down, swimming in and out. She shrieked and moaned, writhed around underneath him. His other arm came down across her hips, his fingers digging in to her skin. Her cries got louder, her hips undulating against his face. In the back of her mind, she knew that the door was open, that anyone could walk in on them – Sanders, a guest coming back for something, anyone – but she didn't care. It just excited her more.
“You're very close, Tate,” Jameson lifted his head enough to whisper, biting on her thigh while his fingers still moved inside of her.
“Yes, please, please, so close, please,” she whined, her hips lifting off the island, straining towards his mouth.
“Do you want to come on my tongue, or my dick?”
“Can't I do both?”
“Maybe another time. My generosity has run out for right now,” he told her.
She sat up abruptly, forcing him to lean away. She grabbed his neck and pulled herself forward, sliding across the island in to him. She locked her lips onto his warm, damp ones, tasting herself against his tongue. Her legs went around his waist and she hooked her ankles together.
“Now, it has to be now,” she groaned, her hands back in his hair and pulling.
“So greedy,” he laughed, picking her up off the island and carrying her out of the room. She clawed and writhed against him, all the way up the stairs. He carried her in to his bedroom and then laid them down on his bed, stretching out on top of her.
“So what am I going to owe you, for that huge favor?” Tate breathed, stretching while he peeled her clothing off of her.
“Something big,” he warned. She smiled, working a hand in to his pants.
“Oh, I know it is,” she replied. He laughed.