Page 89 of A Million Times, Yes

“Ah!” She drew in more breath, and another, “Ah,” came right back out of her.

I licked as she unraveled beneath me. As her knees caved inward, closing in around my face. As she moved with me, meeting my tongue,grinding herself against it. And as I continued to lap, working her through this orgasm, I watched her.

Because the visual was as much of a turn-on as the act itself.

The way her head tilted back. The way she pushed her chest out, her nipples hard. The way her toes bent around the edge of the cushion.

She was in it.

And I was about to bring her out of it.

I slowed my movements—with my tongue and my finger—and while she tremored, I grazed my thumb across her nipple, tugging on it just hard enough that she could really feel the pull but where it wouldn’t cause her any pain.

“Don’t stop,” she breathed.

Her voice was needy.

So was the way she held the roots of my hair.

She didn’t want my face to move, but even if she wasn’t preventing it, I wasn’t going anywhere.

I would stay here all fucking night if she wanted me to.

She sighed the moment her body stilled.

Her legs fell apart. Her chin dropped back down. Her eyes met mine.

“You want another?” I kept my tongue close, my finger inside her.

Her throat moved as she swallowed, her chest lifting as she took a breath. “My answer to that is always yes.”

As I was repositioning my mouth over her, her hand tightened in my hair. “But there’s other things I want more. Maybe not more—I shouldn’t say that. I should say I wantfirst. You know what I mean.”

I chuckled. “Like my dick?”

A smile pulled across her face. “Yes, please.”

I wrapped her legs around my face so that they rested on top of my shoulders, and ordered, “Hold on to my shoulders,” while I lifted her into the air. I carried her to the stairs, which was the nearest wall that wasn’t covered in my hockey collectibles, and I held her against it. “I thought I was done ... but I can’t seem to take another step without being consumed with the need to taste you again.”

Her weight bore down on my arms, the wall helping to keep her steady while I licked. With the way I was holding her, I was restricted. I couldn’t use my fingers. But it didn’t matter. I could give her enough of my tongue that would bring her right back to that place.

“Oh fuck,” she cried.

Where I’d been more careful on the couch, caressing her with soft pressure, I was now ravishing her, taking what was mine and fucking devouring her.

Instead of just holding my hair and lightly pulling it when she was close, her grip had strengthened, and I was fighting against it to keep my face in place so her yanking wouldn’t shift me upward.

Because I needed this orgasm.

I needed to feel it on my mouth.

I needed to taste it on my tongue.

I needed to hear her scream it out.

And that was what I got.

“Jordan!”