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“Funny, I don’t recall that song. I do remember It won’t be long that was on Double Trouble.” She leans forward, her nipples hard and in need of my mouth, and I’ll get there, but I’m enjoying myself too fucking much.
“You’re so square, but baby I don’t care you’re into pivot tables, wear adorable dorky T-shirts.”
“I really don’t want to know,” she murmurs.
“Elvis Country. 1970.”
I go for the killer one-two punch.
“Lawdy Miss Clawdy, keep your hands off of it. And you know what I mean by it.”
Her eyes widen, and she laughs. Really laughs, big and loud. She snorts on the intake of breath. She hugs her ribs and doubles over and fuck me if that isn’t sunshine to my soul. I chuckle because her laugh is big, loud, and uncensored. She holds nothing back as fat tears roll down her cheeks and her hands clutch my shoulders.
“You did not just put two songs in one sentence,” she gasps.
“Don’t ask me why.” I laugh because how can I not? The most beautiful girl in the world is sitting on my bar, vibrating with laughter and she’s funny, gorgeous, and I’ve never met anyone with an Elvis fetish until now.
“Sweet Jaysus the things I want to do to you.” I kiss the sweet spot behind her ear.
“I don’t know that one.” She arches her neck to give me access.
“It’s followed by ‘my mouth is between your legs while you come over my face, again and again, while my tongue fucks you.’”
Silence and for a minute, I think I’ve pushed her too far. But, not my Angel. “I think I like the one that goes, ‘I want to watch you stroke yourself.’”
I don’t need to be invited twice. My hand is on the front of my jeans, the zipper is lowered, and I push my briefs down. Her eyes widen. She stabs her bottom lip with her teeth, and I harden even more.
“Touch yourself, Angel.”
Her gaze shoots to mine. “I want to watch you get off while I get off before we both get off then I’m going to drink you up, baby. I’m so fucking thirsty.”
Her hand slips under her shorts.
“No. Pull them down. Show me your sweet little pussy.” I pull harder and my dick twitches.
She complies, her face red, but her eyes glittering. The button on the shorts is opened. She shimmies, shimmies the denim down her legs, followed by cute boy-cut cotton underwear. Nothing lacy, but as sexy as hell.
And she’s bare.
My cock jerks when she slips her fingers through her folds, and my body shakes. “More. I need to see you.” My voice is rough. It’s a wonder my brain hasn’t shriveled with the complete lack of blood, three-quarters of it being in my cock. I gently plonk her sweet arse on the bar and nudge her legs open.
“That’s better,” I murmur.
Pink and glossy, with a hard little nub of nerves she’s currently circling. She dips one finger inside, and I lose my breath and nearly my load. Hottest thing I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen a lot, but this woman getting off on my bar with her eyes locked on me is volcanic.
Her eyes drop to my dick as I pump harder. I don’t have to imagine how she smells. Her scent is wrapped in my brain, around my cock and locked in my lungs. She licks her lips when a drop of pre-cum appears on my head. Her eyes widen, her hand movements faster. She comes on my bar. Her back arches, her face red, sweat beading her forehead, her feet slap hard against the wood. Speaking of wood, I’m about to come, but Georgia is off the bar, drops to her knees and before I can react, she’s taken me in her mouth. She hums my name, and I have to think of Fiona cooking in my kitchen in backless chaps to stop coming. Georgia’s hot body is driving me insane as is her mouth as she takes me deep into her throat. She hums my name again, and I am gone. My balls tighten, my hand on her head pushes her faster, and I fuck her mouth and grunt when I spill down her throat.
“Shit. Fuck. Angel,” I say, when reality kicks in and my dick softens. “I didn’t ask. I should have pulled out.” Remorse drips from me. I’m not that guy. I’d never usually come in a woman’s mouth without asking first. But, this is what this woman does to me.
She wipes her mouth and smiles at me. “I would have used my teeth if you’d have tried.” She smacks her lips. “You taste like salted caramel mixed with some musky scent that makes you all you.” She stands, and I put my hands on her shoulders. “If I could put you in ice-cream, I would.”
“You think Jiz ice-cream would be a hit? What about Cum Caramel?”
She swats my shoulder, pauses then kneads the hard muscle. “I like Cum Caramel.” She kneads deeper. “Your muscles are so hard.”
I lift her and place her back on the bar. “I haven’t eaten this morning, and I’m starving.”
Nothing but the sharp intake of air through her teeth. “Oh.” She melts into me like chocolate, all solid one minute, then the molecules give way and she dissolves against me as if her bones have liquified.
