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I was shuddering like a leaf. In anticipation. I had already learned that when this bitter man put his mind to pleasuring me it was oh so sweet.

He shoved my skirt up to my waist and tugged my panties down to my ankles. I stepped out of them, and he casually thrust them into his pocket.

He pulled one of my legs over his shoulder, burying his face against my sex. He inhaled me.

I nearly came right then, but he was only getting warmed up.

His fingers softly parted my folds, and he burrowed his face deeper against me. His tongue fluttered whisper soft over me as he teasingly licked my cleft.

I clutched his hair and held on for the ride. It was all I could do to stay upright.

He rimmed my trembling slit with the tip of his tongue, taking his time at it, moving slow as dripping honey.

My heart was stuttering wildly, my wet tongue kept licking at my lips as though that would make my throat less parched as I cried out in quick, breathy pants.

He kissed my pussy for a very long while, going at it like it was romantic, like he was in love with it, like he was making out with my mouth instead of my sex. His head moved back and forth with his movements, kissing, licking, sucking, nibbling.

I’d thought he was good with his hands. He was an artist with his mouth.

Finally, after all the drugging tastes and teases, his tongue speared into me, shoving as deep as it could.

I screamed in pleasure. The club noise drowned it out the second it hit the air.

I knew he heard it because the second he did, he went wild. He started fucking me with his tongue, fucking with the concentrated purpose I’d only ever seen him use when he was trying to get the bottom of a glass of straight bourbon.

He was making these exquisite little noises as he ate at me, noises I felt more than heard, hungry noises like he was licking the bowl for the last spare trace of cream.

I loved it, loved the way he made me feel, the way he made me come alive under his hands, his mouth.

I gripped his silky hair in both hands and rocked my hips, swiveling my aching cunt into his face.

I cried out a protest as his tongue withdrew, but it turned to encouragement as it stroked its way to my clit. He lapped there gently for one lick, two, three.

It was so excessive and yet lacking, it was too much and somehow I needed more, everything, now.

“Please,” I begged him, not caring if he heard, not caring who heard. I needed more. I needed to ignite again.

He shoved his fingers into me and started punching them in and out hard. I felt my own juices dripping down my leg. It almost hurt, but even that felt good.

He pinched his lips oh so softly around my clit and drew on it until I felt my flesh teasing between his flat straight teeth. It was a tender draw at first, but suddenly and without warning, he sucked hard.

The nerve endings in my loins shredded. I screamed into the chaos.

Yes. There it was. That ignition inside of me. He’d done it before, but this time was more, deeper, hotter, hungrier. I came with my whole self, with shivers that ran the length of my body in a rush of heady ecstasy that spread down to my toes.

It took me a long time to recover. I was pretty much useless while he righted my clothes.

I couldn’t look at him.

He refastened my bra, caressing my sensitive breasts as he did so, kneading at my flesh and pinching my erect, sensitive nipples like he couldn’t help himself. He sucked on them while he tugged my skirt down and straightened it, smoothing the material down my thighs. He pulled back and positioned me so I was sitting up on the seat. I wanted to lie down. I wanted to spread my legs and beg him to do it all again.

He righted my bra and put my top back in place.

“My panties,” I reminded him, my voice drowned out by all the noise.

He heard. “Just keep your legs together and try to be modest, if you even know what that means.”

I flushed. How could his mouth be both the nicest and meanest thing I’d ever encountered?