Chapter 7: Let Me 🌶️🌶️🌶️

She'd been getting into a rhythm when he stopped her out of nowhere. Her fingers hovered in the air, still trembling.

"Are you still in pain?" The soft girl looked up at him with clear dark eyes. Under her long lashes, her gaze was gentle and luminous.

Something inside Tate's chest got scratched by a small claw. He didn't understand how her voice could sound this good when she talked to him.

His cock was so hard it was practically flat against his stomach. The only thought in his head was that he wanted to have sex. He wanted to have sex with her.

"Put your hands on my shoulders." He swallowed. His voice was low.

June lifted her pale, slender arms and draped them over his shoulders. She rose onto her tiptoes.

The next second his arm locked around her waist and his other hand gripped the curve of her ass and lifted. Her body left the ground and pressed flush against him without any resistance at all.

Two soft, white breasts crushed against his chest. Her nipples had already gone stiff and they dragged across his skin. From the side, the full round weight of them was flattened into wide discs of flesh — a girl's thickness, unmistakable.

"Ah!" She yelped when she left the floor. Her arms tightened around him. Tate carried her to the bed, set her down, cradled her face in both hands, and kissed her on the mouth. The kiss was slow and loaded.

She already knew that tonight, when he kissed her, his tongue was going to be involved. So she hadn't closed her lips or her teeth since the first one.

His warm, wet tongue slid into her mouth. Their naked bodies pressed together. Their soft tongues tangled and wound around each other.

Something in him gave way. His right hand found her ribcage and his thumb dug in, pressing hard into the bone. Then his mouth left hers and traveled to the spot behind her ear.

She felt the itch immediately and tried to pull away, but she could hear his breathing — up close, ragged, mixed with his voice when he whispered. "Don't move. Let me lick."

The small, pale piece of flesh just below her left ear got caught between his canine teeth. He held it there and ran the tip of his tongue over it.

"I'm ticklish… you — don't lick there."

She pressed her hand against his shoulder to push him away, but he caught her fingers instead.

"If you won't let me lick your ear, then where should I lick? Point me somewhere."

The room was dim. The wall lamp cast uneven patches of light across their bodies, making the bare skin against the white sheets look dense and fleshy. Below their stomachs, where their hips pressed together, the closeness was obscene.

His hot cock was still wedged between her wet folds, flesh on flesh, grinding hard back and forth. She trembled in broken little shudders. Her breathing had gone shallow and fast.

"How about here?" He tilted his head to the side, propped himself up on one elbow, and drew his index finger lightly across her nipple.

The nipple he'd flicked stood quivering in the air. He lowered his head, took her left breast into his mouth, caught a mouthful of the soft flesh between his lips, and with his other hand started groping and squeezing her right breast — open, shameless, not holding back.

She twisted, trying to escape. But his knuckles dug into her ribs and pinned her still. It hurt too much to move.

He stayed on her chest for a while, sucking, licking. When his tongue finally let go of her swollen little nipple, it did so reluctantly — lingering.

The pale pink of her areola was exactly the right size. Tate stared. He couldn't look away. He dragged his tongue up the underside of her breast one more time, slow, bottom to top, then sealed his mouth over her areola and sucked hard.

It was really getting to her now. Her heart was pounding. Every place he'd touched hummed with a buzzing numbness. Even her lower belly cramped with a jolt that felt electric.

She could feel it — the itch between her legs had gotten worse. He was grinding her into nothing. She was going to dissolve.

"Babe. Can I lick you down there too?"

His dark eyes were heavy-lidded. The desire in them had sunk to the bottom. His voice had dropped several shades — hoarse, thick with sex.

Her whole face went red.

Tate wanted to lick her there. How could he want to do something like that? This wasn't like him at all.

"Can you please stop licking me…"

Her voice was shaking. From the moment he'd brought her to this hotel room tonight, the heat in her face hadn't gone down once.

Tate felt like if he died tonight it would be from being a pervert. Ever since he'd started dating this girl, every time he lay in bed on a rainy afternoon and thought about her, his brain emptied out and all that was left was one hard cock.

Right now was no different. His brain had checked out entirely. He was nothing but one hard cock.

His girlfriend was so soft and so obedient. She was being taken apart on the bed and the most she could manage was a weak verbal protest.

She probably had no idea that the more she said, the more fuel she was pouring on the fire.