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out a tiny scream of pleasure. She lapped at the wetness that

pooled on her tongue, on her lips, on Dallas’ thighs. Dallas

couldn’t keep still. She thrashed wildly against the stool and

against Quinn. When she reached down, Quinn snatched her

hand away.

“This is mine,” she said thickly. “For right now, this is

all mine. If you touch yourself, you’re going to spoil the fun.”

“I know,” Dallas cried. “But I’m so close. God,

Quinn… I need you to…”

Quinn knew exactly what Dallas needed. The

frustration was evident in her voice. She wasn’t going to give

it to her. Not yet. She wanted to keep tasting her, draw out the

pleasure and the ache until Dallas couldn’t take it anymore.

She wanted Dallas to come while riding her face so hard they

freaking broke the barstool. Although, the chances of that

happening were pretty slim. It was quite sturdy, but it was

exciting enough to fantasize about it.

Quinn lapped at Dallas, torturing her with her tongue

until Dallas was vibrating so hard above her that the barstool

felt like it was connected to something mechanical. When

Dallas was panting and begging, chanting Quinn’s name,

Quinn finally gave her release. She swirled her tongue over

Dallas’ clit, sucking at the same time with her lips, until Dallas

cried out and shattered against her. Even though she was still

on the bar stool, she did ride Quinn’s face, just like she’d

imagined. It was, hands down, the most incredible thing that

had happened to her in the last decade.

Quinn straightened after Dallas stopped panting and

moving her hips. She stood up and kissed Dallas full on the

mouth, letting her taste herself. Dallas moaned. She cupped