Page 28 of Reunion
“What the hell?” I darted my tongue out to try to catch the drips at the same time I shoved him backward, a glob of ice cream plopping onto his pants.
He let out another one of those smooth chuckles and gave a hapless shrug. “Just seeing how dirty you really like it.” His eyes twinkled. “Your mouth looks absolutely obscene right now. I approve.”
I swiped my tongue over my upper lip and knuckled the rest of the mess away. My gaze dropped to my own cake, then lifted to meet Dane’s eyes, and the silly grin on his face faded, replaced by something more predatory and hungry. “Question is, do you like it just as dirty?”
“Try me.” The challenge in his tone was alluring enough that I scooped my finger through the cake and ice cream sludge on my plate and lifted it, dripping, toward his face. Dane leaned in and held still, eyes holding mine as his lips parted and he waited. It might have been the most ridiculous showdown in history, but fuck if it wasn’t turning me on like crazy.
I dashed an icing-covered fingertip over the center of his lower lip, and his tongue darted out, flicking lightly at my skin before he enveloped my finger in his mouth. I went instantly hard, unable to avoid a metaphorical fantasy where it was my dick he was sucking and licking instead.
Dane caught me by the wrist and pulled my finger free, teeth scraping lightly, teasingly over my knuckles while my heart beat wildly in my chest and my cock swelled painfully. He kept going, pressing the flat of his tongue to my palm and licking from wrist to fingertips slowly.
Pleasure roared through me, sensitive nerve endings unused to such a featherlight touch igniting with bliss. Mypalmof all things—who would’ve thought? When he did it again, my eyes fell shut and I felt the heat of his body move closer to me, his breath wash over my chin. He licked my upper lip, corner to corner, just as slow and sensual as he’d done with my palm, and I moaned softly because it felt so insanely good. Every part of my body seemed connected to my cock, all the nerve endings running toward the same southerly hub, transmitting zings of pleasure straight to my balls.
“You’re very edible.” He spoke in a teasing murmur, and I opened my eyes, dazed with the flush of heat and arousal moving through my body. “Don’t move.”
When Dane picked up the spoon again, I thought he was going to feed me more cake or maybe smear it on me somewhere, but instead he sucked it clean, then leaned to flick open the buttons on my shirt and shove it over my shoulders before taking one of my nipples between his teeth. The other got the round curve of the spoon pressed against it.
I jerked with the chill and moaned as his tongue glided over my skin. He let a dollop of ice cream melt into the curve of the spoon and drip in frigid, tantalizing drops along my collarbone and down my chest. It ran in rivulets over my abdomen, gaining speed with my exhales, and Dane chased them with his mouth, lapping and sucking my skin while my rigid cock leaked and twitched.
“Isn’t that gonna have the opposite effect?” I panted as he unzipped me and held another spoonful of ice cream above my jutting cock.
“On me? No. On you, maybe, but I’ll fix that.” He flashed me a wink.
Fuck, it wasfreezing, and sticky as hell running down my shaft. Dane nudged my legs wider in the chair, and spoon after spoon of ice cream dribbled over my cock, onto my pants and the floor. The chocolate syrup came next in thick, glossy ribbons over my chest. He painted my lips and my chin, then licked them clean, tongue driving against mine as his hands roamed over my body, stroking, caressing, and tugging my cock.
Never in my life had I imagined I’d enjoy being covered in chocolate, ice cream, and cake. It was like an erotica version of being tarred and feathered, and I gripped the underside of the chair, writhing on top of it as my body flooded with fire and ice in equal, maddening measure.
I was way too close to coming apart when Dane leaned back and ticked his chin toward the table. It took me a second to understand the question in his eyes. Or maybe it was more along the lines of a demand.
I eyed the cake, the syrup, the ice cream, then Dane himself before nodding emphatically. “Fuck yes, let’s do this.”
“Clothes off.” Definitely an order.
We stood, knocking into each other as we undressed and cleared the table. He reached for me, pulling me into a deep kiss, working my pants down my thighs as I fumbled for his, undid his belt, and lowered his zipper. His cock sprang free, and I squeezed it, stroking his thick shaft until he pushed me back and we kicked our clothes the rest of the way off.
“Get up there,” he said, and fire licked through me at the commanding tone.
“Will it hold me?” It looked like a solid table, but then again, I’d never fucked on a table, and the way we’d gone after each other last time made me think reinforcements might be necessary.
“It better. I put it together myself.” He squeezed the hand I’d wrapped around his cock, then pried my fingers free.
“Like your bookcase in Mr. Hibertson’s class?” We’d had Practical Living together sophomore year, and his shelves had collapsed dramatically in the middle of his presentation.
“Fluke.” He swatted my ass, and I gingerly eased on top of the table. There was only a slight wobble, which I supposed was comforting.
“What about your birdhouse?”
“Technically sound, just ugly as sin. Besides, what the hell does a birdhouse have to do with practical living?” Dane hovered over me, then dipped low, braceleting my wrists and guiding them up. “Arms behind your head. Keep them there.”
From the edge of the table, he surveyed me, thumb running over his lower lip. I tucked my chin and looked down the length of my body. The smears of chocolate all over my arms and legs. The cake crumbs clinging stubbornly to my chest hair. The ice cream glazing my ribs and cock. I thought I looked frightening, but Dane’s expression said I looked delicious, so I went with it. Our eyes met as he picked up the spoon and the chocolate syrup, and I thumped my head back on the table, breaths coming faster in anticipation as he tipped the syrup bottle over my belly.
I took a deep breath and held it as syrup oozed out and plopped onto my stomach like the lightest caress. “I’m ticklish.”
“I remember.” Dane’s grin was full of devilish intent.
He worked me over for the next half hour, a feat of edging with the sweetest accessories of torture. Syrup rained over me and ran off the edges of the table. I gorged on the bits of cake he fed me by hand, licked ice cream from his lips, then arched and cried out when he took my cock in his mouth, sucking me clean only to get me filthy again.
And when I didn’t think I could stand it anymore, when I was a sugary, groaning mess of pent-up desire, Dane helped me off the table, then bent me over it, cock sliding up and down the seam of my ass while our bodies collided with lewd squishes of sound. He pressed inside me like it was nothing, and I didn’t even give a shit what he’d used for lube, as long as he kept hammering my prostate like he wanted me to fall apart from the inside out.