It’s too much and not enough. I need more, but at the same time, for some reason, I want to push his head away as the pressure builds. The heavy, liquid warmth growing inside of me is like nothing I’ve ever felt before. I’ve had orgasms before, even one earlier tonight, but if Cannon doesn’t stop soon, I think I may burst wide open.
His fingers pump inside of me, and his tongue lashes against my flesh faster and faster as if that’s exactly what he wants to happen until what my body does is out of my control and under his command.
Giving up the fight, I throw my head back and sink into the pleasure. My fingers are back in Cannon’s hair, and I don’t remember putting them there or pressing his face to my body, but I don’t stop because it feels right. I ache so badly and want it to stop.
“Cannon, please,” I beg since I can’t hold on much longer. His fingers shove deep and then it feels like I’m falling and drowning. My hips buck wildly, riding the waves of euphoria exploding from the center of my body and rippling outward through every inch of me. I should be ashamed of the sounds I make or how I’m drenching Cannon’s face, but I’m not. It feels too good, too mind-blowing to not enjoy it.
Once I’m no longer shouting or moaning, I can hear Cannon’s groans like he’s enjoying a delicious meal. He pulls his fingers free, but I have to gently push his mouth away because I’m too sensitive to any touch right now. He leans the side of his face against the outside of my thigh to look up at me. Then, he lifts his fingers and covers them with his lips, sucking them clean while watching my face.
“Mmm-mmm,” he mutters around them as he closes his eyes. “I could eat you for breakfast, lunch and…”
I wait for him to finish his sentence, but he doesn’t, he just slumps against me harder, and I realize – he’s passed out.
“Cannon?” I say, reaching down to shake his shoulder. “Cannon, wake up.”
“Mmm,” is the only sound he makes as his upper body starts slumping lower and lower toward the floor until he flops on his side and curls up like he’s going to sleep with one arm wrapped around my ankles.
“Shit,” I whisper, because he’s out and I don’t think he’s going to wake up anytime soon. Which makes me wonder, if he’s this drunk, will he even remember what we just did – what he just did. But he’s the one who got on his knees. It was his mouth that sought me out. The only encouragement I gave was at the end when I pressed his face to my body.
Guess I’ll have to wait until tomorrow to see if he remembers.
I can’t leave him here in the kitchen, sleeping on the floor, though.
First things first, I pull my panties back up and then I try to lift his arm that’s around my ankles. He holds on tight at first. When I get his fingers pried off of me, though, I pull and pull, but all I manage to do is drag him a few inches toward the living room.
Shit.
If I’m going to get him to his bed, I’m going to need help. Which means sucking up my shame and asking Jake and Lucas to carry him.
I lower Cannon’s arms, and he murmurs something in his sleep, something that sounds like my name as I walk away.
Once I’m outside, all I have to do is wave a hand at the prospects in Jake’s car, and they both throw their doors open and hurry up the steps.
“What’s up?” Lucas asks, his expression confused as if he has no clue what was going on. Jake is behind him; and when I see his face, he can’t seem to meet my eyes, which is just fine with me. Guess he didn’t tell Lucas why we sent him outside.
“I need your help, both of you,” I explain to them. “Cannon passed out on the kitchen floor. Could you help me carry him to bed?”
“Yeah, sure,” Lucas agrees. “I knew he was tipsy, but I didn’t think he was that drunk.”
“Me either,” I mutter.
When we all get back inside, one of the first things I notice now that I didn’t earlier is that Cannon’s face is still glistening from what we were doing just before he passed out. I step over him and reach down to wipe his lips and chin with the top of his shirt quickly. Jake clears his throat like he’s trying to suppress a laugh.
“What?” Lucas asks him.
“Nothing.”
“Why did you leave him here if you could see how drunk he was?” Lucas questions Jake.
“He looked like he was happy as could be when I left,” Jake responds, his lips pressed together tightly to keep from laughing or saying anything more.
“Jake’s right. Cannon was…alert when he was in here.”
“I still don’t get why he told you to come outside with me,” Lucas grumbles. “Cannon made it clear that one of us should be inside and to get a decent night’s sleep.”
“You that worried about my sleep?” Jake teases him.
Since I would feel bad if Jake had to sleep in his car with Lucas, I should probably smooth things over. It’s already inconvenient for them enough shadowing me around. “I think Lucas is right, Jake. You should just come crash on the sofa. Cannon probably didn’t mean it when he told you to leave.” The boy looks at me for half a second before his gaze goes back to the man on the floor.
“Yeah, you’re probably right. He obviously didn’t know what he was doing,” Jake agrees. “I mean, saying!” he
