As he torqued her nipples, twisting them, pulling them out, pinching them just hard enough, Monica used both hands to stroke his cock. The water provided added sensation. Her hands were slippery as they slid up and down his shaft. Bloody fucking fantastic, it was.
His hands gripped her breasts one last time before he nabbed her wrists. “No more. I want to taste you.” Holding her by the waist, Cal lifted her out of the water and set her on the rim of the pool. Between the half-moon and the soft lights shining around the garden, Monica’s pale skin glowed. Her nipples hardened in the cool air. She was so slim, her waist curving inward and giving way to fuller hips, rounding down to that splendid ass.
Cal gazed up at her. She was breathing hard, waiting to see what he’d do next. He appreciated her anticipation.
“Spread your legs, darling.”
Leaning back on her hands, Monica propped her heels on the concrete and spread her knees wider. Cal now had a very nice view of her pussy. Only a small triangle of hair remained on her mound, and the rest was bare. He ran a finger over the outer lips, and Monica shivered.
“Even your cunt’s lovely.”
Her body was ripe and inviting, every pale centimeter of it.
She watched as Cal spread her lips apart and fluttered his middle finger over her wet slit. Pressing down on the top of her mound, he worked his finger inside her.
“You said three.”
“I said it was a process.” Cal slid a second finger into her tight sheath, curled both of them upward, scissoring them back and forth. Monica was getting there, her arousal evident by the moisture coating his fingers as he continued to stretch her.
“That’s…that’s pretty good. Just like that.” Leaning her head back, Monica bit her lower lip.
“Pretty good is for amateurs.”
She lowered her chin to grin at him. “So you’re a professional finger-banger?”
Cal smiled back and slithered the third finger inside of her. That wiped the grin off those pouty lips. They formed an O as he glided in and out. She was more than ready to come, but Cal would use his mouth this time. After all, he’d given his word.
When he slowly removed his fingers from her body, Monica’s eyes popped open. “Don’t stop.”
“I have plans, remember?” Cal lowered his head to swipe his tongue along the edge of one outer lip. Her legs twitched, and a breathy moan escaped her while he sucked on it, gently, carefully. After a few seconds, he stopped to gaze at her. “Do you like that?”
Monica nodded.
“Want more?”
“Yes, please.” A hint of a smile played on her lips.
“Oh, I do like good manners when I’m tongue-fucking. Nicely done, you.” Unlatching his arms from her legs, he parted her and started lapping her inner folds, savoring her sweet, rich taste.
He used a steady rhythm, laving his tongue up the length of her, then swirling it around her swollen clit. As he licked her, occasionally his eyes drifted up to gauge her reaction. Monica’s face had softened in pleasure, her light blue eyes becoming stormy.
When Cal’s tongue slid inside her, Monica’s hips bucked off the ground. She threw her head back, and he studied the long line of her neck—down to that tiny mole in the center of her chest. He continued to dart his tongue in and out of her, taking his time. Cal wasn’t in a hurry, didn’t intend on stopping until she came so hard she couldn’t walk properly.
Monica drew gasping breaths and exhaled soft groans. When he used his thumb to rim her tight little puckered hole, her body stiffened, and she started to yelp, but stopped herself. Monica clutched a handful of his hair as she came, her pussy convulsing around Cal’s tongue. She shoved her hips toward him, pulled his head closer. From the corner of his eyes, he watched her toes curl. Good. She was enjoying herself, then. He took a great deal of pride in making her lose control.
Cal didn’t stop until she went completely limp and her grasp on his hair loosened. He pulled his tongue from inside her and gave her one last swipe. Grazing both hands over her calves, he kissed the curve of her ass where it met her thighs, then bit down.
“You’re killing me.” She closed her eyes, her chest heaving as she panted. Monica remained quiet for so long, he nipped her ass again.
“Are you all right, love?”
“I give up, okay? I admit it, you’re bloody brilliant.”
Cal wanted to shout in victory, but he settled for a grin. “This is what I’ve been trying to tell you.”
She laughed and sat up, stretching out her hands to rest on his shoulders. “Did you say something about a shower?”
Cal hauled himself out of the water. “It’s enormous. Could double as a car wash. You should really fuck me there.”
“I really will—just make sure you have a condom.”
He bent and placed an arm beneath her knees, then scooped her up. She seemed very preoccupied with protection. “I’m safe as houses, you know—been tested and all that. You aren’t on the pill or something?”
Monica slung her arm behind his neck. “I just like to take precautions. And I can walk.”
“I’m aware. This is more fun.” He wouldn’t question her about the safety issue. She wanted him in a condom; he’d wear one. Hell, he’d wear two. Anything to get inside her once more.
Cal strode into the house, leaving wet footprints along the plush carpet and the marble floor in the hallway. As he walked, Monica fingered the side of his neck. Once or twice, she bit down on his shoulder. He liked it a little rough as well. “You keep that up, we won’t make it to the shower. I like it when you bite me.”
She licked his earlobe. “Like this?” she whispered, then pulled the skin between her teeth.
“Just like that, Miss Prim.”
“When are you going to quit calling me that?”
He stopped in the bedroom doorway. “Does it really bother you?”
“I just wondered what kind of debauchery it takes to shake that nickname.”
“When we’ve reached it, I’ll let you know.” He walked over to the bedside table, where he lowered her slightly. “Grab the condoms, would you?”
Monica opened the drawer and snared a string of them. “Is this enough?”
“It’ll do for starters.”
As she clung to his neck, Monica’s gaze roamed over the suite. “This room is humongous. How’s the bed? Hard or squishy soft?”
“You can try it for yourself. I plan on fucking you there too.”
“You and your plans.”
He carried her to the bathroom and maneuvered sideways to allow them both through the door. When he set her on her feet, Monica spun in a circle.
“This is bigger than my bedroom.” She ran her finger along the smooth lip of the glass sink.
Why was she so thrown by the opulence? Trevor’s house was expansive, each feature singular, and filled to the rafters with antique bric-a-brac. Using the loo was on par with a visit to the British Museum.
“Is this how you live in London?” She glanced up at him, caught him staring at her breasts.
“No. I have a small flat above the garage. One bedroom, no telly.”
Monica walked into the shower and glanced at the buttons. “Do I need an engineering degree to turn this on?”
Cal stood behind her, pressing his prick against the small of her back. After tossing the pack of condoms on the stone bench at the end of the travertine shower, he programmed the temperature and turned it on. Eight jets of pulsating water flowed over them from all directions. “It takes a little practice. You’ll have it in no time.”
“You’re not going to be here long enough for me to figure it out. So which do you like better, the one-room flat or this place?”
Before he could respond, she turned in his arms, ran her hands down his chest. When she reached for his cock, he forgot the thread of their conversation. In fact, he forgot to think at all.
As he walked her backward, Monica still played with him. With both hands, he pushed the wet hair off her face.
“Feel good?” she asked, gripping him firmly.