“Does that feel good?”

“Sure.” He shrugs. HE. SHRUGS! “Does it feel good to you?”

“I’m doing it for you, not me.” I can’t entirely hide the frustration in my voice. I’m so damn turned on, but he’s acting like someone stepping into a lukewarm bath.

“Well then …” His hand clasps my wrist, pulling it from his briefs. “You’re doing it all fucking wrong.” Shoving both of my arms behind my back like I’m under arrest, he dips his head down and teases his tongue over the swell of my breast.

I feel chilled and ready to overheat at the same time. He dips lower. My back arches as he flirts with that invisible string that sends a thrumming pleasure right between my legs.

I seethe in a quick breath.

A soft groan rattles in his chest. That teases that invisible string too.

“You see…” he trails his lips along my chest, seeking my other breast “…the art of sex is all about selfish pleasure. You like what I’m doing…” he palms my breast, flicking his tongue over it until my legs pinch together to fight off the need to moan “…but I’m not doing it for you.”

He lets go of my hands and hovers his lips over mine. “I’m doing it because I want to taste you … because I want to hear you whimper … because I want to feel you squirm. That gives me pleasure.”

I nod slowly, but I can’t find one word that’s a suitable response.

He grabs my ass and lifts me, guiding my legs around his waist, my arms around his neck, so he can lay me down on his sleeping bag. Kissing me with an unhurried pace, he reaches behind him and unhooks my legs from his waist before tearing his mouth from mine. “And…” he sets my feet on the ground and slides off my panties “…when my tongue goes here…”

“Oh god …” My hips jerk against the two fingers he shoves inside of me.

“…it’s because I’m so fucking hungry.” His tongue goes there, and he hums like I’m the best thing he’s ever tasted. Gone … I’m gone … lost in the bliss of pleasure given by Satan himself. I curl my fingers into his coppery hair and hold him to me as I throw my head back, speaking to a god I’m certain wants nothing to do with my orgasm gratitude.

Jake

“Where are you going?” Avery lifts onto her elbows as I pull on my shorts. “We’re not having sex?”

I grin, shaking my head. “I don’t have a condom.”

“It was YOUR idea! How can you not have a condom?”

I shrug. “It was a gamble, but I felt the odds were in my favor that I wouldn’t need one.”