Zip, Zero, Zilch
Page 27
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
His fingers slide between my thighs, and with a gentle press of his palm, he spreads my thighs a little. I close my hand over his when his knuckle grazes my wet panties. And I am one hundred percent sure they’re wet.
He presses his lips against the sheet on my thigh and I can feel the heat of his breath when he says, “I can help you with that.”
I jump. “With what?”
“I could make you come. Make you feel better.”
My traitorous vagina clenches like it wants to scream Yes! But I say, “No, thank you.”
He laughs. “I didn’t offer you a soda. I offered you an orgasm. No strings. We don’t even have to talk about it later. I’ll pretend like it never happened.”
He tosses the covers over his head and inches forward until he’s lying over my lap a little, and his hot breath hits the apex of my thighs. They involuntarily part. Sam adjusts my body like I’m a rag doll, until I have no choice but to lie back. One leg is off the bed, and the other is bent over his legs. He’s beneath the covers, so I can’t even see him. Or touch him.
“Sam,” I protest.
“Shhh,” he whispers, but I can hear him chuckling. “You’re horny and I want to feel you come. It’s a win-win.” His palms press my thighs wide and he settles in between, wiggling a little as he positions himself. Then a questing finger edges under the side of my panties. “This will just take a second,” he whispers. “Damn, that’s pretty,” he says.
Then his mouth touches me and the angels start to sing and I totally lose any reservations I had about him doing this. Not that I had many, but still.
His tongue is wicked and marvelous and absolutely skilled. And his fingers…they will not be outdone by his tongue. Not a bit. He licks across my center and sucks my clit between his lips, where his teeth, tongue, and lips do crazy things I never dreamed were possible.
His head is still under the damn blanket, and I have this irrational thought that he’s going to suffocate under there, so I grab the edge and toss it to the side. And as soon as I do, I see him. He’s between my thighs, his fingers doing crazy things to my vagina as his lips do wonderfully wicked things to my clit, and his blue eyes meet mine.
I come apart, breaking as I thread my fingers into his hair and hold him close to me, coming harder than I have ever come before, by my hand or anyone else’s. He doesn’t let up as my wits shatter, but his licks, tugs, and pulls grow softer as my orgasm eases. I shiver and quake as he brings me back down. I lie back and close my eyes.
I can’t believe I just let him do that. I all but begged for it. And now I’m embarrassed.
Sam eases the edge of my panties, covering me up softly and tenderly, and then he presses a kiss against the fabric. The heat of his breath sets off an aftershock and my body rocks one last time. God.
Sam crawls up my body, careful not to squish me, until he’s up by my mouth. “That was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”
My face fills with heat.
“What’s wrong?” His brow furrows.
I look everywhere but at him. “You s-said we wouldn’t t-talk about it.”
“Oh, crap. I did. I’m sorry.” He laughs and shakes his head. “Do you like pancakes?”
I open my eyes. “What?”
He jostles me. “Pancakes. Do you like them?”
“Doesn’t everybody like p-pancakes?”
“No. Some people like French toast. Or eggs. Or oatmeal.”
“P-pancakes are good.”
“I’ll make pancakes.” He pushes away. But then he suddenly comes back and kisses me. It’s long and hard and I can taste myself on his tongue. “Thank you,” he says.
I should be thanking him, if I could get my tongue to work. “For what?”
“For trusting me. For trusting me enough to come here with me. For letting me…do nothing we’re not supposed to talk about.”
“I don’t know wh-what you’re t-talking about.” I sniff. Because we’re not supposed to talk about it!
“All I’m going to be able to think about is how you don’t taste, and the noises you don’t make when you come, and the way you didn’t pull my hair or push my face into your pussy.” He kisses my cheek and gets up. The towel that was around his hips is loose, and he lets it fall to the side as he gets up. His ass is naked and he turns slightly. His dick is hard and…pierced. I can’t take my eyes off it.
“Sorry,” I say, jerking my eyes away when he makes a noise.
“You can look at me any time you want, cupcake.” He steps into a pair of boxers, grabs his crutches, and hobbles out of the room.
I relax when I think he’s gone, and I start to replay all the things that just went on in my head, like a loop. He pops his head back into the room. “If you lie there and think about that thing we didn’t just do, you’ll worry yourself sick. So go shower and we’ll have pancakes and not talk about it.” He walks away again. He comes back, kisses me quickly, and says, “Just so you know. That was the best sex I never had.”
He leaves. I unclench my fists and get up, and then I go take a shower in the hall bathroom, because that’s where all my stuff is.
I can’t believe I just let him do that.
Sam
Holy. Fuck.
I wasn’t kidding when I said that was the best sex I never had.
I can still taste her on my lips, all sweet and tangy. I swipe a hand over my mouth, but I really don’t want to wipe it away. I want to keep it. Hell, I want to do it again.
He presses his lips against the sheet on my thigh and I can feel the heat of his breath when he says, “I can help you with that.”
I jump. “With what?”
“I could make you come. Make you feel better.”
My traitorous vagina clenches like it wants to scream Yes! But I say, “No, thank you.”
He laughs. “I didn’t offer you a soda. I offered you an orgasm. No strings. We don’t even have to talk about it later. I’ll pretend like it never happened.”
He tosses the covers over his head and inches forward until he’s lying over my lap a little, and his hot breath hits the apex of my thighs. They involuntarily part. Sam adjusts my body like I’m a rag doll, until I have no choice but to lie back. One leg is off the bed, and the other is bent over his legs. He’s beneath the covers, so I can’t even see him. Or touch him.
“Sam,” I protest.
“Shhh,” he whispers, but I can hear him chuckling. “You’re horny and I want to feel you come. It’s a win-win.” His palms press my thighs wide and he settles in between, wiggling a little as he positions himself. Then a questing finger edges under the side of my panties. “This will just take a second,” he whispers. “Damn, that’s pretty,” he says.
Then his mouth touches me and the angels start to sing and I totally lose any reservations I had about him doing this. Not that I had many, but still.
His tongue is wicked and marvelous and absolutely skilled. And his fingers…they will not be outdone by his tongue. Not a bit. He licks across my center and sucks my clit between his lips, where his teeth, tongue, and lips do crazy things I never dreamed were possible.
His head is still under the damn blanket, and I have this irrational thought that he’s going to suffocate under there, so I grab the edge and toss it to the side. And as soon as I do, I see him. He’s between my thighs, his fingers doing crazy things to my vagina as his lips do wonderfully wicked things to my clit, and his blue eyes meet mine.
I come apart, breaking as I thread my fingers into his hair and hold him close to me, coming harder than I have ever come before, by my hand or anyone else’s. He doesn’t let up as my wits shatter, but his licks, tugs, and pulls grow softer as my orgasm eases. I shiver and quake as he brings me back down. I lie back and close my eyes.
I can’t believe I just let him do that. I all but begged for it. And now I’m embarrassed.
Sam eases the edge of my panties, covering me up softly and tenderly, and then he presses a kiss against the fabric. The heat of his breath sets off an aftershock and my body rocks one last time. God.
Sam crawls up my body, careful not to squish me, until he’s up by my mouth. “That was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”
My face fills with heat.
“What’s wrong?” His brow furrows.
I look everywhere but at him. “You s-said we wouldn’t t-talk about it.”
“Oh, crap. I did. I’m sorry.” He laughs and shakes his head. “Do you like pancakes?”
I open my eyes. “What?”
He jostles me. “Pancakes. Do you like them?”
“Doesn’t everybody like p-pancakes?”
“No. Some people like French toast. Or eggs. Or oatmeal.”
“P-pancakes are good.”
“I’ll make pancakes.” He pushes away. But then he suddenly comes back and kisses me. It’s long and hard and I can taste myself on his tongue. “Thank you,” he says.
I should be thanking him, if I could get my tongue to work. “For what?”
“For trusting me. For trusting me enough to come here with me. For letting me…do nothing we’re not supposed to talk about.”
“I don’t know wh-what you’re t-talking about.” I sniff. Because we’re not supposed to talk about it!
“All I’m going to be able to think about is how you don’t taste, and the noises you don’t make when you come, and the way you didn’t pull my hair or push my face into your pussy.” He kisses my cheek and gets up. The towel that was around his hips is loose, and he lets it fall to the side as he gets up. His ass is naked and he turns slightly. His dick is hard and…pierced. I can’t take my eyes off it.
“Sorry,” I say, jerking my eyes away when he makes a noise.
“You can look at me any time you want, cupcake.” He steps into a pair of boxers, grabs his crutches, and hobbles out of the room.
I relax when I think he’s gone, and I start to replay all the things that just went on in my head, like a loop. He pops his head back into the room. “If you lie there and think about that thing we didn’t just do, you’ll worry yourself sick. So go shower and we’ll have pancakes and not talk about it.” He walks away again. He comes back, kisses me quickly, and says, “Just so you know. That was the best sex I never had.”
He leaves. I unclench my fists and get up, and then I go take a shower in the hall bathroom, because that’s where all my stuff is.
I can’t believe I just let him do that.
Sam
Holy. Fuck.
I wasn’t kidding when I said that was the best sex I never had.
I can still taste her on my lips, all sweet and tangy. I swipe a hand over my mouth, but I really don’t want to wipe it away. I want to keep it. Hell, I want to do it again.
