“What’re you doing?!” I cry out, “No!”
Gage grabs and lifts me up, “You want it that bad, huh?” wrapping my legs around his hips again.
“No, that’s not it. I just…” want it that bad. “…wasn’t sure what you were doing, is all.”
He chuckles, carrying me into the kitchen, “You said you were thirsty,” where he sits me on his clean countertop by a super-sized, silver fridge.
Rather than say what my pussy wants me to — I’m not thirsty anymore. I wanna experience what that cock feels like — I nibble my bottom lip.
Must act cool.
Unaffected.
Aloof.
I’ve already slipped up. Accidentally shown eagerness. Never my style. Quite the opposite. Brad and I excel at game playing.
I’m a master!
His star pupil.
In so many ways.
Just thinking of that asshole dims my arousal, greediness now a manageable hum. I even feel my gaze sharpening again.
Wisening.
Gage digs in the refrigerator and produces a couple Guinnesses. “Perfect. Irish beer for the redhead. Put your head back.”
“Excuse me?”
“Put your head back and close your eyes.”
“No way.”
His left hand slides between my thighs and flips over to hold my crotch over jeans I suddenly wish were on the floor. “Mmm, you’re hot down here.” He rubs up me once, and moves slowly back down, applying more pressure and giving the tiniest, shortest, wiggle. “Can’t tell through this denim but I’d bet my truck you’re dripping wet.”
I frown at him.
He gives me this sexy I-can’t-wait grin, eyelashes dropping to watch his palm and fingers rub me more. I’m trying not to let Gage see how aroused I’m getting, how good he is at this.
Aloof.
Aloof.
Aloof!
That doesn’t even sound like a word anymore. A moan betrays me.
“Put your head back.”
I breathe, “Okay.”
“Close your eyes and keep ‘em closed.” His hand abandons me. I bite my lip rather than beg for its return.
There’s that delicious, unmistakable sound of a beer bottle cap flying, the distinct fizz as oxygen meets liquid.
Against instinct I squeeze my eyes tight, hearing him take a long swig.
Suddenly there’s an ice-cold, wet bottle rim touching my bottom lip, tracing it left, then right. I tilt my head a little for a sip and he says, “No,” so I bend it back again. “Open your lips for me… That’s right.”
Cold and chocolatey Guinness drenches my tongue and stops just before I choke.
“Keep ‘em closed.”
I hear the bottle set down beside me, feel his hands taking hold of my waist as his warm lips brush against and lick mine.
I go to kiss him back, but he pulls away too fast.
“Lift your arms.”
I do it.
Heart racing.
Eyes closed.
Other senses heightened.
The shirt disappears.
My bra gets unsnapped.
Slides right off.
Gets thrown.
Shirt, too, from the sound I just heard.
I’ve never had someone undress me for the very first time without my closely watching their reactions.
I have no visual idea what Gage is thinking, if he likes what he sees, or what he’s even up to.
A moment later, my boots are unzipped and tugged off, clattering in the distance on wood flooring. He must’ve chucked them hard, grey socks, too, because I couldn’t even hear those land.
He whispers, “Don’t you dare look,” as muscular arms encircle and bring me close, my naked breasts pressing into his shirt as he sets me down on the cool kitchen tile. It’s not completely smooth like linoleum. My toes touch a straight groove and it occurs to me these have the texture of sanded bricks.
Hands take hold of my waist, sliding in until he pops my jeans button open, unzipping oh-so-slowly until I’m oh-so-wet.
With eyelids shut by surrender, I hold my arms up, naked breasts rising.
Desire hisses through Gage’s teeth.
I want him so bad.
He tugs down my pink panties with my jeans, and there’s a quiet whoosh and a thump where they land on the floor somewhere.
Touch me, Gage.
I’m naked now.
Can’t see what you think.
But…
I’m feeling it.
All over.
He lifts me onto the counter.
Kisses my shoulder just once.
“Head back.”
Arching hardened nipples to the ceiling, my ribcage spreads, legs together, and I gasp as cold liquid rains onto warm flesh.
A hot licking sensation replaces intense shock with sensuality and I shiver, legs parting of their own free will. He drenches my breasts again, licks and licks and licks them, then comes back up to kiss me a while, our mouths in no hurry.
Time and again rough fingers glide over my slippery slopes and curves, his tongue following the fingertips like they’re showing it the way. He drinks me up until finally his hands go between my knees to open them wider.
“You’re holding your breath again.”
“Mmhmm.”
“I wanna make you breathe hard.”
I feel his fingers on my inner thighs, and shiver in suspense. A second later, Gage licks where I’m pulsing, one long lick before his fingers crawl in to separate my swelling folds.
I gasp at the cold drench of fresh beer poured onto my aching pussy. Gage’s tongue lazily cleans me off. Oh my…never ever, ever, have I been this aware of my clit before. I’m painfully awake to this sweet ache.
I cry out as I’m doused again, and grab Gage’s head as he laps at my pussy, forgetting my resistance to show him, moaning loudly, even whimpering. I want to cum so badly, and he’s torturing me. I start to rub on his tongue, can’t help it! It’s too good. My primal instincts are on me. There is nothing but his amazing tongue.
Gage slides it into my cave for the first time. I freeze, contraction just out of reach. It slides out and up to tickle my clit until a burst of pleasure weakens me.
He stops.
Rises up.
The bastard.
My orgasm teeters on ecstasy’s edge, pussy throbbing so bad that I whimper, “Fuck me!”
I hear his zipper, the sound of a condom wrapper, the soft fall of slacks while rubber is stretched wide. The thump thump thump of wrestling his boots off without the use of his hands as they grab my naked hips.
One releases me.
“Say please.”
Blind, I moan, “Please!” and sigh with relief as his cock’s
