“I’m going to show you exactly how a man should treat a woman,” he says as he pulls my panties off. He tosses them aside, and I’m left in nothing but my miniskirt, my legs wide open for him as my heels sit on the bar.
“Look at that perfect cunt,” he groans, his head dipping between my thighs and inhaling my scent. I blush furiously from the tips of my toes all the way to the top of my head as I feel his nose run the length of me. He takes my hands and places them in his hair.
“I want you to fuck my face,” he tells me as his lips brush the most sensitive part of me. “You will tell me what you like, you will squeeze my head with your thighs, and you will tug on my hair so hard that you’re worried you’ll pull it out.”
He pauses.
“And Holly?” he asks, looking up at me over my skirt, his eyes so full of lust it makes my pussy clench.
“Yeah?” I breathe.
“You will scream for your Daddy when you come. Understood?”
Her pussy is fucking perfect, pink and glistening with her arousal, and she has the softest blonde curls that I run my nose through. I lick straight up her center before sucking her clit into my mouth. She cries out, squeezing my head with her thighs and arching her back off the bar.
She grinds her hips against my face, lifting her head up off the counter to watch as I eat her out like a starving man. We make eye contact as I slip a single finger inside of her, curling it until I feel the soft pad of her G-spot.
“Do that while you make circles around my clit,” she tells me.
“Like this?” I ask her, using the tip of my tongue to do exactly as she asked while my finger teases that spot inside of her.
“Yes, thank you, Daddy,” she moans. My cock feels like it’s going to rip right through my jeans. It’s so stiff and ready to sink inside of her. I can feel how tight she is by the way she clenches around my finger, and I can’t wait to watch her stretch for my cock.
I push another finger inside of her, slowly scissoring and stretching her as I listen to the sweet sounds of her moans and whimpers. I alternate between circling around her clit and sucking it, getting her closer and closer to the edge each time. There’s a sheen of sweat across her body and a flush creeping its way across her chest and up her throat.
“You’re close,” I growl, and she nods, throwing one of her arms over her face. She takes that plump bottom lip between her teeth and bites it as she groans deep in her chest.
I keep up my rhythm, eager to see what she looks like in the throes of her orgasm. Her breath picks up, her chest heaving with the effort as her belly moves with her hips. She bites on her hand before I move my free hand up, shoving my fingers into the wet heat of her mouth.
“Use me,” I beg her, and she does. She sucks and bites on my fingers with vigor, matching the rhythm I’m using on her pussy. I pull them out of her mouth, wiping the spit across her mouth before shoving them back in. “Good girl,” I praise.
“Oh, fuck!” she moans around my hand as I feel her pussy flutter around my fingers. “Yes, Daddy!” she cries out as I nibble on her sensitive and swollen clit. My dick leaks into my boxers as her taste explodes across my tongue.
“You taste so fucking good, baby girl,” I tell her as the last of her orgasm pulses through her body. She bites down hard on my fingers, and I groan against her soft flesh. I pull my fingers free of her cunt and lick them clean before lifting her boneless body to a sitting position.
I take my fingers out of her mouth and kiss her, letting her know just how sweet she tastes. Her tongue swipes over mine before sucking it into her mouth a few times. My dick takes notice of her tease, twitching painfully against my denim.
“I want to taste you,” she murmurs against my lips, her hand finding the length of me and stroking it. I push into her hand, and a growl escapes my throat. I drop my forehead to her shoulder as she continues to move her warm hand up and down.
“Upstairs,” I say, pulling her off the bar. She wraps her legs around my waist and kisses me as I blindly try to find my way to the stairs that lead to my apartment above the bar.
“I feel like now is a bad time to ask you if you’re a serial killer,” she says, a little laugh coming from that sweet mouth.
“Definitely should’ve asked that earlier,” I tell her. “Too late now.” I pull the keys out of my back pocket and open the door that leads upstairs. I shut it behind us and carry her up the dim stairwell.
“Do you live above your bar?” she asks as we make it to the landing, and it opens up into my living room.