Play Along(90)

“Fuck.” It’s silent, as if he forgot to use his voice.

“I start like this.” My hips follow my fingers. “Then I do small circles.”

“Like this?” he asks when he takes my fingers away and bends, his tongue mirroring my movements, circling over my clit in a rhythmic pattern.

“Oh,” I moan. “Yeah, just like that.”

“What else?” He replaces my fingers as he pulls back to watch, his lips glistening with my arousal, and that image alone almost sends me over the edge.

“This.” Up and down, up and down in short fluid motions.

He holds my hand out of the way, using his tongue to match my fingers.

But it feels infinitely better. He takes his time, licking me with pressure, and I can’t help but chase his mouth with my hips as they lift from the couch, looking for more.

He moans. He fucking moans from tasting me.

Nothing about this is hurried. For the first time in my life this doesn’t feel like a simple checkmark on the way to sex, done quickly and inattentively, ready to move on to the next thing.

Isaiah is tasting me as if there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

He’s sprawled on the couch, one leg bent, the other extended, laying like a goddamn sniper as he eats me out. He’s never been more handsome than he is right now between my legs, hair tousled, lips shining.

“What about fingers? You ever finger yourself?”

“Sometimes.”

“Show me.”

There’s not a single moment of hesitation. I feel drunk on him, mindless and loose as I slip my fingers between my legs and push the middle one inside.

“Goddamn,” Isaiah exhales. “That is the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

I pull it out and push it back in again.

“You’re fucking soaked, Ken.”

“I really want to come.” My voice is a whine, my finger moving frantically, as if I could make it happen myself.

“I know, baby. You’re close, aren’t you?”

I nod, desperate, begging eyes connected with his.

“Can I show you something I think you’re going to like?”

“Please.”

He pulls my finger out, slipping it into his mouth to clean off before latching his lips around my clit again. In the same breath, my single finger is replaced with his two. They curl upward, stroking a spot I’ve never had touched before, and I’m done. I’m a mess. I’m entirely at his mercy.

My whole body is almost off the couch, writhing with the sensation. His mouth never leaves me, moving in tandem with his fingers, both our bodies rocking together as if he were really fucking me and not with only his mouth and hand.

“Holy fuck, Ken. You’re so goddamn tight. I can feel you pulsing around me.”

As his hair falls over his eyes, I slide my fingers through it, pushing it back, holding it to his head to give me a clearer view of what he’s doing.

He wickedly smiles up at me, his tongue moving in long, languid strokes.

Isaiah adds his thumb against my clit, rubbing small circles over the bud, his tongue flicking it in tandem, and I’m out of my goddamn mind.

The pressure is too much. It sits right on the edge until it spills over and I’m falling.

“Isaiah,” is all I can plead before I’m coming.

Wave after wave rip through me. I keep my attention on him until I can’t any longer, my eyes screwing shut with the force of my orgasm. It doesn’t stop. It feels like it lasts for minutes on end, and Isaiah keeps his mouth on me the entire time, licking up the evidence.

I can feel his eyes on me before I hear him chant my name like a desperate, pleading prayer, and it only extends my release.

When I finally come down, my muscles uncoiling, I slump back onto the couch. My breaths are labored and earned, and I can only imagine how untethered I look.

Auburn hair sprawled beneath me. Ruined makeup and a wrinkled gown.

Unpolished and imperfect.

It’s the most relaxed I’ve ever felt.

“Shit,” Isaiah exhales when he climbs onto his knees, eyes focused on the crotch of his pants.

“Did you . . .”

“Come?” he finishes the sentence for me. “Yeah.”

“From . . .”

This confident man holds no apology in his gaze when he looks up at me, devilish smirk tilted on his lips.

“From eating you out. Watching you come. Hearing my name as you did. I couldn’t help it. You turn me on, Kenny. It shouldn’t come as much of a surprise that I came in my fucking pants like some inexperienced dork seeing as you know exactly how obsessed I am with you.”

He might not blush, but I do.

He crawls over my body, draping himself over me on the couch, and with a heavy, exhausted sigh, he melts into my shoulder.

“We should get you home and into bed,” I whisper.

“I know. I should get going. It’s not like I can go back out there like this anyway.”

I hold him there, my arms wrapped around him. There’s a moment of hesitation before I ask, “Can I stay with you tonight?”

“Yes.” He lifts to look at me, quickly agreeing as if I were going to change my mind. “Of course you can.”

He bends to kiss me before resting his head on my shoulder once again, too exhausted from everything that happened tonight.