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“David,” she groans out softly and slowly comes back to reality.
“I want more,” I admit. “Grab on to the coat behind you.”
I get down on my knees and grab her free leg that was once wrapped around me, and put it on my shoulder.
“You smell so good,” I growl.
“Fuck, David. Take me, please.” I swear, it’s like magic. Sooner or later, they always beg me for more.
“I’ve been wanting to dive into this wetness since the moment I saw you,” I run my nose up and down her slit, nuzzling it on her clit.
“Hmm…I love seeing the king kneeling before me,” she moans, grabbing my head and pushing me into her.
Jeez, thank God I know how to swim. Even now, she’s so controlling. But I do like these new demands, I’ll be more than happy to oblige to these always.
I lick her pussy from taint to clit, coating my tongue with her juices.
“You taste so fucking sweet, love.” And it’s true, she’s intoxicatingly sweet.
How in the hell could I ever resist this? What was she thinking? It’s like denying a dog a bone, it’s just mean.
“Suck me, David.” She demands.
“So greedy, Ms. Taylor,” I smile, and suck her clit, grazing it ever so slightly with my teeth.
Her hips buck against me, and I grab her ass, keeping her in my hold.
“Yes, yes…” She starts to shake around me, and I insert a finger into her, sliding it in and out swiftly.
She really seems to like it when I break the rules. I’ll definitely be filing that crucial bit of information for later.
She moans, and the once whisper gradually becomes louder.
“Shhh…love,” I remind her, but my voice is muffled seeing as my mouth is full of her pussy.
I continue to stroke her with my tongue, and she grinds up against my face. I feel her body start to tense and a rapid fire of intense quakes roll through her.
“Oh my God, David!” She screams loudly and then combusts. My fingers coax her through what feels like an earth-shattering orgasm.
She exhales, and her body relaxes.
“OH MY GOD!” A voice screams in…terror?
What the fuck? That didn’t sound like Vivienne.
“Oh my God, David!” Vivienne repeats herself, this time in a ‘we’re fucked’ tone that’s riddled with humiliation.
I guide her leg down, and I bring one of my knees up for balance. Turning towards the voice of what I think is a woman, I’m instead met with a hound of photographers and yes, a woman—a very old woman—with her hands over her mouth.
“WHO IS THIS WOMAN?” The photographers start to yell, and the cameras start to clink frantically.
“WHAT ARE YOU TWO DOING IN THE COAT CLOSET?”
“YOUR MAJESTY, IS THIS YOUR GIRLFRIEND?”
I smile, tightly, and look up at Vivienne who’s mortified. She covers herself quickly and puts her hands on my shoulder and faces the cameras, like she’s in some fucking Miss Universe pageant.
“We didn’t close the door, did we?” She says through a plastered-on smile.
“I guess that’s one thing we’ll have to practice.”
“Fucking hell.”
I know this looks bad, really fucking bad, but a part of me—including my aching cock—is enjoying this.
So much for that fucking PR strategy, love.
