Samantha
I don’t recognize the sound that comes out of my throat when Colt’s mouth connects with my c**t. It’s guttural, almost primal, and if I was in my right mind, I’d probably be embarrassed, but I’m clearly not. I don’t even recognize myself, spread out on his kitchen counter like a centerpiece, though I’m too consumed by pleasure to care.
His touch is gentle, sweet despite the lewdness of what he’s doing. His fingers spread me wide, his tongue just barely brushes over me, sometimes flicking back and forth, other times swirling around. The pleasure is indescribable, the ache somehow satisfied and building at the same time.
Colt’s lips close over me, sucking me gently into his mouth, pulling another carnal moan from my throat.
On some level I expected this, wanted it even, because
