Booty Call(7)

By: Amy Brent

I felt his hand work it’s way up my bare leg – I had gone without hose even despite the cold weather, and it had been the right choice. I was sure of that now I could feel his fingers tracing my bare skin, pushing up the hem of my dress, exposing me as he traced around the outside of my thigh. I was wearing a pair of simple black cotton panties and I suddenly felt a pang of worry, thinking about all the women he’d likely had trussed up in the most perfect lingerie I could imagine. But, as he hooked his fingers around my panties and gripped tightly, those thoughts were pushed from my head. No, he wanted me like this. Maybe he even preferred me this way.

He shifted away from he and yanked my panties down in one swift motion, leaving me bare from the waist down. I squirmed on the countertop as he tossed the panties aside, leaned back, and looked at me – Matt had always been one-and-done, not much waiting to admire me or enjoy me beyond just putting his dick in me and getting it over with. Feeling Nathan’s eyes on me got something deep within me heated, knowing that he wanted me so clearly and without restraint. He slowly let his gaze trace every part of me, from top to bottom, until our eyes finally met once more. His eyes, those beautiful blue eyes, were darker than they had been the first time I’d seen them, somehow. Like he had switched modes.

“You look so good like that,” he murmured, gently pushing my knees apart so he could see me. I bit my lip. I wasn’t sure what I wanted him to do, but I needed him to do it right this instant. And, luckily for me, he seemed to figure out precisely what it was that I needed without a second glance.

He knelt down in front of me suddenly, a motion that threw me off my guard. What was he doing? I certainly wasn’t about to start complaining. He planted a kiss on my left knee and looked up at me, and that deviant smile flicked back across his face. My breath caught in my throat – oh, I was pretty sure I knew what he was up to. He brushed his mouth up the inside of my thigh, going slow, and I tipped my head back and let out a moan. I had never been much one for being too vocal in bed – or on bartop, as the case may be – but I knew I might never get a chance to be with him like this again and I wasn’t going to ruin it by getting all up in my own head about it. He slid a hand beneath my ass, tugging me closer to him, and I clung on to the edge of the counter for dear life and focused in on how good his mouth felt against my skin. His breath was warm and soft and steady where mine was ragged and desperate and sharp. He must have known what he was doing to me, have sensed how much I needed him there already.

He slowed his pace, teasing me, and I clenched my jaw and wriggled my hips back and forth on the counter. I wanted t grab his head and grind myself against him, but I figured that in this scenario he knew best – God knows how many hook-ups he’d had like this one, how many women he had left writhing in unfulfilled pleasure. I wasn’t going to argue with him. Right now, he was the one in control, even if he was the one kneeling on the ground before me.

Finally, he was there – well, not quite, but I could feel the heat of his breath on my pussy, my toes curling as he drew in close. One of my shoes slipped to the ground with a clatter but I didn’t care. He brushed his lips across mine, inhaling deeply as though he was trying to commit the scent and the taste of me to memory. I knew how he felt. I felt as though I was trying to take in every detail of this encounter so I could play it back a dozen times over in the future. The soft pat of the light rain on the enormous windows, the smell of an open bottle of expensive scotch beside me, the feel of his light stubble against the inside of my thighs. All of it. I knew I would forget something, but for now, I just wanted to remember and savour the details.

And then, at last, he pressed his mouth against me. I let out a cry that echoed around the entire apartment; the place was so big that the noise seemed to go on for days, but I didn’t care. All I could focus on was the feel of his tongue against my clit, the deft way he drew me into his mouth and began to draw this light, quick circles against me with his tongue. My other shoe fell to the ground. Fuck.

When Matt had gone down on me it had been more about ticking a box than it had been about making me come. But with Nathan between my legs, things felt…different. Pointedly so. I looked down and watched him, running my fingers through his hair and taking him in as he ate me out with a hunger that I had never experienced before in my life. Like I was that expensive bottle of scotch next to me, rich and sweet and earthy, and that he couldn’t get enough of me no matter how badly he tried. He let out this groan of pleasure, somewhere deep in his chest, as he ate me out, like this was what he’d been thinking about since I’d stepped into his office earlier that day, and I tipped my head back and closed my eyes. And why, exactly, had I had any doubts about this? Now that I was here, with him between my legs and eating me like he was half-starved, I couldn’t think of one good reason. He had driven them all from me.

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