Page 88
Story: Sing For Me
“You need to go shirtless more often,” I say.
Eli grins. His biceps flex as he brings his arms forward, toward the button on my jeans. “And you’re still wearing too many clothes for the beach.”
I gasp as he flicks open the button, grazing his fingers over my stomach. He hooks his fingers in and tugs softly, pulling my jeans down and off so I’m lying on his kitchen table in my matching bra and underwear.
I know full well the lacy panties are see-through, and I don’t miss the way Eli’s eyes linger on the triangle there, his tongue darting from his mouth like he wants to taste me.
“Eli,” I whisper.
But he puts his finger up to his lips. “I need to remember all the steps.”
But I know he’s not thinking about tequila as he draws his fingertips from my knees, which are at the edge of the table, up my thighs, gently nudging my legs open like he did on the counter. He stands between them, his hands spread on my stomach.
“Part of me wants to just pull these panties aside,” he rasps, “and fuck you right now.”
I groan, as he brings a hand down to the elastic leg of my underwear, sliding his fingers inside so his knuckles run along the sensitive skin of my mound. His fingers go lower, until they dip just along my opening. He sucks his teeth. “Especially since you’re so wet for me already.”
“Okay,” I say, finding myself wantonly trying to slide down the table, to urge his fingers between the lips of my pussy.
But he withdraws his hand.
I groan, closing my eyes. “Eli, please.”
“I think I can make you wetter.”
He reaches behind my calves and pulls me toward him so my ass is now at the edge of the table. Then he draws an appraising eye along my body, from my eyes down to where I know my drenched panties are leaving nothing to the imagination.
“Where am I supposed to lick you again?” he asks innocently.
“Here,” I say helpfully, sliding my hands down my body to my inner thighs, opening my legs up wider for him.
Eli actually growls then, but instead of obliging me, he bends down and grabs his tie.
I gasp. “What are you going to do with that?”
“I’m going to keep you from trying to derail me.” He walks around to the other side of the table so he’s standing over me. Then he leans over, low enough the hair of his treasure trail tickles my nose. I tip my chin up to surprise him with a kiss, and he makes a grunting sound as he takes my wrists and pulls them up over my head. “Eli!” I moan as he weaves his tie around them, pulling them tight enough I can’t slip loose, though I’m not affixed to anything.
A moment later Eli’s walking back around to where he was. He’s picked up the tequila too. He leans over me, so his elbows are on either side of my waist.
Then he pours half the tequila onto my belly.
I gasp at the chill of cool liquid on my skin. “No salt?”
“Not where this tongue is going next.”
Then Eli Dunham has his mouth on my stomach, his tongue darting into my belly button to lap up every last drop of the tequila.
I’m moaning, now writhing under him. His chest is pressed against my pussy, and I try to pulse against him, needing the pressure. But he gets back up, propping himself up with one hand. “Open,” he says. “You’re going to swallow this just like you swallowed my cum.”
I groan once more at his words, but I’m powerless not to obey. I open my mouth and keep my eyes on him as he pours the last of his glass into my mouth. I swallow, relishing the burn this time. Relishing the look, too, in his eyes as I lick my lips, knowing we’re both thinking about the other day in my office.
When I was on my knees for him.
He bends down and kisses me again, this time his tongue pulses in my mouth in a desperate, hungry thrust.
“I want you, Eli,” I breathe when he pulls back. “I want you now, inside of me.” I want him so badly I know I can come with his cock inside of me.
But Eli only pops his jaw. “I’m not done yet.” Then he abruptly wanders back to the kitchen. I hear the click of metal and see his pants drop as he does. He steps out of them casually, then his shorts, and now I’m treated to a delicious view of his tight ass as he reaches for the tequila. When he turns around, I curse out loud.
Eli grins. His biceps flex as he brings his arms forward, toward the button on my jeans. “And you’re still wearing too many clothes for the beach.”
I gasp as he flicks open the button, grazing his fingers over my stomach. He hooks his fingers in and tugs softly, pulling my jeans down and off so I’m lying on his kitchen table in my matching bra and underwear.
I know full well the lacy panties are see-through, and I don’t miss the way Eli’s eyes linger on the triangle there, his tongue darting from his mouth like he wants to taste me.
“Eli,” I whisper.
But he puts his finger up to his lips. “I need to remember all the steps.”
But I know he’s not thinking about tequila as he draws his fingertips from my knees, which are at the edge of the table, up my thighs, gently nudging my legs open like he did on the counter. He stands between them, his hands spread on my stomach.
“Part of me wants to just pull these panties aside,” he rasps, “and fuck you right now.”
I groan, as he brings a hand down to the elastic leg of my underwear, sliding his fingers inside so his knuckles run along the sensitive skin of my mound. His fingers go lower, until they dip just along my opening. He sucks his teeth. “Especially since you’re so wet for me already.”
“Okay,” I say, finding myself wantonly trying to slide down the table, to urge his fingers between the lips of my pussy.
But he withdraws his hand.
I groan, closing my eyes. “Eli, please.”
“I think I can make you wetter.”
He reaches behind my calves and pulls me toward him so my ass is now at the edge of the table. Then he draws an appraising eye along my body, from my eyes down to where I know my drenched panties are leaving nothing to the imagination.
“Where am I supposed to lick you again?” he asks innocently.
“Here,” I say helpfully, sliding my hands down my body to my inner thighs, opening my legs up wider for him.
Eli actually growls then, but instead of obliging me, he bends down and grabs his tie.
I gasp. “What are you going to do with that?”
“I’m going to keep you from trying to derail me.” He walks around to the other side of the table so he’s standing over me. Then he leans over, low enough the hair of his treasure trail tickles my nose. I tip my chin up to surprise him with a kiss, and he makes a grunting sound as he takes my wrists and pulls them up over my head. “Eli!” I moan as he weaves his tie around them, pulling them tight enough I can’t slip loose, though I’m not affixed to anything.
A moment later Eli’s walking back around to where he was. He’s picked up the tequila too. He leans over me, so his elbows are on either side of my waist.
Then he pours half the tequila onto my belly.
I gasp at the chill of cool liquid on my skin. “No salt?”
“Not where this tongue is going next.”
Then Eli Dunham has his mouth on my stomach, his tongue darting into my belly button to lap up every last drop of the tequila.
I’m moaning, now writhing under him. His chest is pressed against my pussy, and I try to pulse against him, needing the pressure. But he gets back up, propping himself up with one hand. “Open,” he says. “You’re going to swallow this just like you swallowed my cum.”
I groan once more at his words, but I’m powerless not to obey. I open my mouth and keep my eyes on him as he pours the last of his glass into my mouth. I swallow, relishing the burn this time. Relishing the look, too, in his eyes as I lick my lips, knowing we’re both thinking about the other day in my office.
When I was on my knees for him.
He bends down and kisses me again, this time his tongue pulses in my mouth in a desperate, hungry thrust.
“I want you, Eli,” I breathe when he pulls back. “I want you now, inside of me.” I want him so badly I know I can come with his cock inside of me.
But Eli only pops his jaw. “I’m not done yet.” Then he abruptly wanders back to the kitchen. I hear the click of metal and see his pants drop as he does. He steps out of them casually, then his shorts, and now I’m treated to a delicious view of his tight ass as he reaches for the tequila. When he turns around, I curse out loud.
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