Page 16 of Tricky Puck

“You taste too good to be real,” he whispers as he circles his tongue around my swollen nub, and his hands clench down on my thighs.

“Please…” I’m delirious and bucking under him, pushing my pussy into him and pulling at his hair to drag him closer though that would be impossible unless he sticks his tongue down my vagina. The thought jolts me, and I bite down on a loud moan.

“I’m so close…” My legs vibrate with it. “Please…”

He stops and lifts his head to look at me, and our eyes meet. His are dilated and glassy, his mouth is slick with my juices and puffy, and his chest heaves. I scream inside my head, telling him not to stop, but he’s too gorgeous and sexy to look at, and I can’t stop staring.

“Please what, baby? Tell me. Say it.”

“Please make me come.” I tug on his hair and open my legs wider, wrapping them around his back to force him closer, but he’s a strong boy.

“I want to hear you scream my name when you come.”

I stare at him and nod.

“Promise me.”

“I promise you I will scream your fucking name, just⁠—”

His move is so quick I stop breathing when his tongue flicks my weeping clit, hard and fast, and he doesn’t stop until my quivering muscles clench, and I swear even my heart stops beating while I spiral out of control and burst apart, my clit feeling exactly like an exploding plum.

“Oh my god. Link…” I bite my lip, clenching every muscle as I dissolve.

He doesn’t stop licking and flicking, draining me, drinking me, and taking everything I have while wave after wave of orgasms churn out a never-ending supply of sex honey for him to lap up.

All my nerves are strung at their highest pitch in concert, and I swear if there was a glass in the room, it would break apart. Like me, writhing and clenching around him until the waves of nearly painful pleasure leave me, and I realize I might be strangling Lincoln Milano with my thighs if I don’t let up.

Opening my eyes—though I didn’t realize I’d closed them, I see his eyes, intense and dark, but still green and staring at me. Like a pirate. Hungry.

My power of speech returns between my ragged breaths, and I sigh, then reach out to take his face in my hands as he stands. I plant a deep, heartfelt kiss on his mouth while my heart thuds and emotions and feelings rise and flood whatever good sense I have left.

I must still be high from the massive orgasm and grateful naturally. That’s all it is. Except my heart should be slowing down, not drumming this way, not feeling like butterflies are chasing it up my throat.

“Whoa, baby,” he says into my mouth, still breathing heavily. “I guess this means you enjoyed dessert as much as I did.”

Leaving his mouth, I’m afraid to look into his eyes again and pepper kisses on his scratchy jawline. I love his chin and the squareness of his manly jaw, the rough, unshaven stubble scraping the sensitive nerve endings everywhere it touches.

“I didn’t have dessert yet.” I reach down and find the satisfyingly hard bulge in his jeans, and as I slide down off the vanity, reaching lower, I discover how big he is.

Did I say big? I mean massive. My already overstimulated heart lurches up and down like it’s jumping for joy, and my previously sated lady parts start working up an appetite all over again.

He rasps in my ear. “Don’t start what you can’t finish.”

“Who said I can’t finish?”

“We’ve been in here a while, and we haven’t exactly been quiet.” He takes control of me, holding me in his arms and retrieving my panties from the sink. I had no idea where they were.

Dangling them on his middle finger between us, he takes a deep breath of that unmistakable scent. “I’ll remember how you smell and taste until I’m a very old man, and then the memory will still give me a hard-on.”

“I can take care of that monumental hard-on you’re packing.” I start to unzip him, but he stops me.

“I have a better idea. Let’s get out of here.” He hands me my panties, and I take them, letting out a sigh as I pull them back on. He’s right. I’m too hot and bothered for my own good.

When we finally emerge from the false privacy of our bathroom, several people are in line waiting, and they stare at us. They know. They whisper and smile as we walk past them. Except for one lady who scowls at us. One guy mock claps with a smirk and a nod in Link’s direction as if he’s congratulating him for his score.

His score? What about mine? I should feel proud. I stand straight and tall and take Link’s arm, shamelessly smiling back at everyone in line and winking at the scowling gray helmet-haired lady, shocking her.

It’s been a minute since I played the bold hussy, but it’s empowering and fun to embrace my rebellious streak in a public display.