His finger circles my clit. I’ve come, and it’s sensitive and I’m hot and slippery and needy. Again. He laughs at my obvious need, his fingers pinching, squeezing the bulbous sex button before slipping back down my sodden slit.
A solitary finger enters me.
“You’re so fucking wet,” he growls softly into my ear.
The single finger is joined by another, then a third. Slowly he pushes into me, rubbing against my spot until I’m arching.
He pulls out, and I’m left gasping, right on the edge.
I may have called him a fucking bastard then. His hand rises to my mouth.
“Taste,” he says, “taste yourself on my fingers.”
A finger slides across my bottom lip.
“Salty,” he says, “Sweet.”
“you, girl. That’s you.”
Slowly he presses the other digits into my mouth, across my tongue, down towards my throat, almost-but-not-quite gagging me.
Just as those salty-sweet slicked fingers had caressed my cunt, so now did they fuck my mouth as my tongue swirled and flicked over them, cleaning him. He laughs, a soft chuckle of sound, then pulls them free.
“Here,” he says, turning my head with his free hand. His mouth takes mine, lips barely touching before he pulls back a fraction of space.
“Give me. Give me…” His word is a fierce yet quietly growled order.
“More,” he demands, lips against my mouth. I press my lips harder against his. Our mouths suck and take greedily from one another. I moan as he sucks my aching tongue hard, then bite his lip when he frees it.
As our mouths mate, his fingers press into my pussy and begin the dance of lust again.