Page 43 of Special Delivery

“Tsk, tsk, baby. You’re going to have to be quiet. There are people upstairs, and I’d rather they not know how delicious this pretty little pussy tastes.”

This time my moan is a whimper, my abs contracting with the need to do more. To move, to scream, to grind myself on his face.

“You can do that, can’t you? You can be quiet for me,” he whispers into my pussy.

It’s not a question, not really, but I still nod frantically, willing to do anything, say anything just to keep him from stopping what he’s doing. Thankfully, he doesn’t stop. He grabs me by my thighs and shatters me with quick licks and nips, as well as slow sucks that make my eyes roll to the back of my head. It’s been years since someone ate me out, but I’m pretty sure it never felt this way.

His fingers are biting into my flesh in a gently painful, delicious way, and his mouth works miracles on my deeply neglected pussy. It clenches with his assaults, begging to be filled. Desperate little whimpers and whines escape my mouth, and my hips start fidgeting. He glances into my eyes, his sinful mouth curves into a smirk, and in that moment, I know he’ll destroy me.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Ryan

My head is throbbing, but it’s not a headache. It’s ravishing hunger that courses through my body, making it hard to keep this slow. I can’t believe I started the day with another text from John, another stress-induced headache, and now I have the girl I haven’t stopped thinking about for weeks spread out naked in front of me. And what a sight it is.

Her cheeks are pink, but not as pink as her pebbled nipples. Her skin is still wet, but not as wet as her gorgeous, glistening pussy. I feel my heartbeat in my throat, drunk with tasting her. She’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted, her delectable scent mixing with the salt from the ocean. Her eyes are hooded, her lips parted, and fuck, my dick aches to join in on the fun.

It’s not his time though. I remember the rage I felt when she shared that she doesn’t remember the feeling. She doesn’t remember the pleasure of her pussy being licked because it’s been so long. Fuck, how? If I had her next to me, I’d eat her out for breakfast, lunch and dinner. I would start and end each day with my head between her thighs, thanking my lucky stars for the opportunity.

I suck in her clit and her back arches off the bed. She’s so fucking responsive. So perfect. My hands travel from her soft thighs to those rock-hard nipples. I rub them between my thumb and forefinger, and the little whine that escapes her almost makes me cum in my pants. Again.

By this point, my hips are grinding into the sheets, trying to find some friction. But it’s not enough. Not with her pussy right here, taunting me to slide into the wet heat. To make matters worse, I slip a finger into her and see stars. Is this how she would grip my fucking cock?

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

She thrashes underneath me, fighting the noises that beg to escape. I press another finger inside, arching them to rub her sweet spot while I suck on her clit and she trembles with her release. It’s violent and untethered, and I’m honored to be the one to give this to her. Her pussy squeezes my fingers, and my own orgasm is unable to be stopped. My hands make quick work of releasing my cock from my shorts, and I jerk it with quick motions before I’m coming all over my hand.

“Shit, shit,” I mutter, my eyes closing with pleasure.

Once they open, Paige stares at me with wide, spent eyes, her tongue running over her bottom lip.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Paige.” I shake my head.

“What did I do?” Her mouth hangs open.

“You ruined me. That’s what.”

“Me?” she asks, pointing at her chest, but a smirk plays on her lips. “You’re the one responsible. You’re the one who told me to get naked and…and everything else.” Like she just realized she’s naked, she quickly slides her top back over her breasts and ties her bottoms over her hips.

I give her a moment of privacy, slipping into the bathroom to clean myself off. When I get back, she’s on her feet, shifting from one foot to the other. Instead of lust, there is now panic in her wide blue eyes.

“We should stop doing this,” she says, not looking at me. “Whatever this is.” She motions her hand from me to her.

“Do you want us to stop?” I slip my hands into my pockets.

She sighs, rubbing a hand over her forehead. “No… yes. Yes,” she repeats loudly. “This is insane. It has to stop.”

My mouth hooks, entertained by her inner turmoil. “Sure.”

“Anyone could have heard us.” Her statement is more a question.

“Are you convincing me or yourself?”

“Why aren’t you doing the same? This is a recipe for disaster.”

My shoulders shrug. I don’t know. I should be doing the same. I should be putting a stop to this, too. My mom is in love with Paige’s dad, and messes like this can only bring her stress. But I can’t.

My head’s flooded with hormones; I can barely remember the previous headache. I’m captivated by her. She was a mystery I was hoping to solve, but now that I’ve tasted her, she’s a fountain I never want to stop drinking out of.