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“I told you we should’ve closed the door,” I mumble against her skin, undeterred by Postie’s insistence that he’s the kitty I should be paying attention to.
“They just meow at the door. It’s distracting,” she gripes.
“More distracting than Postie trying to lie on your chest while I tongue-fuck you?” I unhook my arm from her thigh and feel around for the toy mouse Postie loves. My fingers close around it, and I toss it across the room.
Postie meows and launches himself into the air.
I suck Aurora’s clit, and she bows off the bed.
“Ah! Shit. Do it again.”
“What was that?” I slide a single finger inside her, but don’t curl.
“Again, again. Do it again,” she demands. I love how vocal she is in bed. Her confidence between the sheets—or in the shower, on the couch, on the kitchen counter—grows every day, and it’s sexy as fuck to watch her discover her intensely sensual side. She’s not afraid to tell me what she wants and needs in explicit, dirty detail.
She tries to roll her hips, but I push my other forearm across her low abdomen, holding her down. “Do what again?” I lap at her, softly.
“Hollis,” she whines.
“Tell me what you want, Princess.” I lift my gaze and meet her frustrated one.
Postie jumps back onto the bed and drops the toy mouse beside her head.
I can’t help it. I grin.
She glares at me, grabs the toy mouse, and yeets it across the room. Then her expression shifts, softening, along with her voice. “Please suck my clit, Hollis.”
I do, but gently.
“More, please, with teeth.” She strokes my cheek. “And more fingers, please, so I’m ready for your cock.”
We could spend all day in bed, and it would never be enough. Not for her, not for me. The power balance is addictive. Sometimes she’s compliant and sweet; sometimes she’s demanding and needy. And sometimes she’ll push my buttons until I break—which is a personal favorite. I don’t think I had this much sex even when I was in my twenties.
I add a second finger, but still don’t curl. And I suck, but still not the way she wants. “How’s that?”
“Still more, please.” I add a third finger and graze her clit with my teeth.
“Yes. God. Thank you.” Her hand tightens in my hair. “More, please.”
“I’m already using three fingers, Princess,” I murmur.
“I can take more. Tristan puts his whole hand in Rix’s vagina,” she pants.
I lift my head. I could not have heard that right. “I’m sorry, what?”
Her eyes flare, and she whispers, “They do the Chasing Amy.”
“You mean the Kevin Smith movie from the nineties?” I probably watched it as a teen.
“Yeah.” She makes a circle with her thumb and middle finger and then slides her other hand through it until she’s holding her wrist.
“That’s—his whole hand?” My gaze drops to where three fingers are buried inside her. The physics of that seem…not ideal. Rix is small, and Tristan’s hands are like baseball gloves.
“Maybe we should talk about this later.” Aurora’s face is an adorable shade of red as she tries to push my head back down.
“Or maybe we shouldn’t.” I curl my fingers.
She gasps. I lick her clit and then latch on, watching her eyes roll up.
