Chapter 189 You Fuck Me Better Than My Husband
I moaned around him, the vibration making him twitch in my mouth. I reached up, cupping his balls—soft, warm skin, heavy in my palm. I massaged them gently, feeling them tighten as I sucked harder. His hips rocked, pushing deeper until the head hit the back of my throat. I gagged a little, eyes watering, but didn't pull back. His balls slapped my chin softly with each thrust, the wet sounds filling the room—slurping, sucking, my muffled whimpers.
This is so wrong, I thought, pussy clenching hard around nothing. Alex would kill me. But God, it feels so good. Slick dripped down my thighs, my clit throbbing with every bob of my head. Damien's groans were low, ragged, his cock pulsing on my tongue like it had a heartbeat.
He pulled out suddenly, cock shiny with my spit, strings of saliva connecting us. "Enough," he said, voice strained. "On the desk."
He lifted me like I weighed nothing, laying me back on the cool wood. Papers scattered, a stapler clattered to the floor. He spread my legs wide, knees hooked over his shoulders, my pussy open and exposed to him. The city lights reflected off my slick folds. He inhaled deep, like he was savoring my scent—musky, sweet, raw female need.
Then his mouth was on me.
Long, flat licks first—from my entrance up to my clit, slow and deliberate. I cried out, hips bucking. His tongue was hot, rough, dipping into every crease. He sucked my clit into his mouth—gentle at first, then harder, teeth grazing just enough to sting. My juices flowed freely, coating his chin, dripping down my ass crack onto the desk.
"Your clit swells so beautifully under my tongue," he murmured against me, voice vibrating through my core. "Peak vascular response. You're dripping like you were made for this."
He pushed two fingers inside—thick, callused—curling them to hit my G-spot while his tongue fucked into my hole, thrusting deep like a mini cock. I grabbed his hair, grinding against his face, moans spilling out loud and desperate. Pressure built fast—my pussy clenching around his fingers, clit throbbing under his sucks.
But he stopped. Pulled back just as I teetered on the edge.
"No—please—" I whimpered, hips chasing his mouth.
He smirked, blowing cool air on my clit. "Not yet."
He dove back in—long licks turning to rapid flicks on my clit, fingers twisting slow and deep. My thighs shook, toes curling. Slick poured out of me, the wet sounds obscene. I was so close—walls fluttering, that coil tightening in my belly.
He stopped again.
I sobbed, hands fisting the desk edge. "Damien—fuck—I need to cum."
"Beg properly," he said, fingers pumping lazy now, thumb barely brushing my clit.
"Please—please let me cum. I'll do anything. Your mouth feels so good—your tongue inside me—"
He sucked my clit hard, fingers curling viciously. The edge rushed back—faster, hotter. My whole body tensed, pussy clamping down.
Stopped.
I was shaking now—sweat beading on my skin, clit throbbing like a heartbeat, juices flowing in rivulets down my thighs. "Please—I'm begging—fuck, Damien, I can't take it—"
"Good girl." He latched on again—tongue fucking deep, fingers twisting, thumb grinding my clit in tight circles.
The orgasm slammed into me. I screamed, back arching off the desk, walls spasming wildly around his fingers. Slick gushed out—squirting in hot pulses onto his chin, his shirt. Wave after wave rolled through me, clit pulsing under his tongue, body convulsing.
He licked me clean—long, gentle strokes, tasting every drop—while I panted, aftershocks making my pussy twitch.
His cock strained against his slacks, throbbing visibly, but he didn't touch it. Just stood, wiping his chin with the back of his hand.
I whispered, voice wrecked, "I need more..."
He smirked. "Tomorrow night. Wear nothing under your skirt."
I dressed on trembling legs, cum and spit still sticky between my thighs, and left, already counting the hours.