“Umm, well . . . I’m not quite sure because Brian doesn’t really do that.”
“I would,” he says quickly while wetting his lips. Speaking directly to me, his eyes so intense, he says, “I’d go down on my girl. Because I’m desperate to taste her, please her, and drive her wild, I’d slowly spread her legs and work my way up her inner thighs, teasing her. I’d drop kisses over every inch until I could see her dripping for me. Ready for my tongue to devour her. Her clit would be so hard I’d be able to flick it with my tongue. She’d be panting, nearly breathless. My fingers would widen her lips so I could drag my tongue over her clit in one long stroke.”
Oh fuck, why can I feel that?
“That’s, uh”—I squeeze my legs together—“that would be nice.”
“That would be only the beginning. I love to hear my girl scream, to pull on my hair, to dig her heels so far into my back that I feel it the next day. I love to suck on her clit, taste her, pulse my fingers into her, and make my face sloppy with her arousal. And then, I like to do it all over again. I take. I fucking take every last ounce of pleasure from her, and then that’s when I let myself come when I know that she has nothing left to give me.”
My skin breaks out in a sweat as a dull throb starts to pulse through my veins.
I smack my lips together. “Well, that, uh, that is not the way Brian does it.” Not even close. “So this was educational. Maybe I should try the whole tongue-flicking thing.”
“Do you want to try it?” he asks.
“What do you mean?”
“Do you want to go down on Brian?”
“I mean, isn’t that what I’m supposed to do?”
“You’re not supposed to do anything. But when a woman goes down on me, it’s because she wants to, because she finds my cock so enticing that she can’t function without tasting me. I want my girl to be desperate, needy, and begging for me, so when she does take me in her mouth, she worships it. Just like I would worship her aching pussy.”
Jesus . . . hell. Because she finds my cock so enticing that she can’t function without tasting me. Just like I would worship her aching pussy.
Hearing him say pussy is next level. How it rolls off his tongue with ease as if he says it all the time. And he probably does. This conversation has shown me exactly the type of man he is when he’s intimate with a woman. Dirty talking, desirous, dominating. A stark contrast from the sweet, funny best friend I know so dearly.
“Well, I want to pleasure him,” I say. “I think everyone wants to be able to pleasure their partner.” Do I find Brian’s cock so enticing that I can’t function without tasting him? Obviously not.
“What do you do with him?” he asks as he scoots closer to me, placing just a few inches between us now so our knees knock together and his arm is draped right behind me.
Can he tell how . . . turned on I am from this conversation? Can he feel the heat coming off me? Can he see my rosy cheeks or see the light sheen of sweat that has broken out over my skin?
God, I hope not.
“Uh, what do I do with Brian? Well.” I clear my throat, feeling uncomfortable. I’m the one who started this conversation, so I might as well go all in. “We obviously kiss.”
“That’s a given,” he says, his eyes falling to my lips.
I have to look away because it almost seems like there’s hunger in his pupils, but that could just be the heightened awareness from what he just said. “And you know, touch each other. He fondles my breasts and, uh”—I swallow—“I touch his balls and penis. But, we kind of just get into it, you know? He really likes to fuck me from behind.”
Oh my God, I can’t believe I just said that. My cheeks are burning with embarrassment.
Breaker tugs on a strand of my hair and twists it around his finger. “Does he spank you while he’s fucking you?”
“What?” My eyes widen before I shake my head. “No. He’s never spanked me.”
“Shame. Bet you would get wet from it.” Dear Jesus. “Do you strip for him?” he asks, his voice so deep that I’m barely comprehending what he’s asking.
I rub my thighs gently, trying to keep my mind on his question and not his responses. “I did a few times.”
“Lap dance?”
“Uh, not really. But I have purchased some lingerie that I know he liked. It was black see-through lace.”
Breaker wets his lips again and nods. “That’s hot, Lia.”
“Yeah?” I ask, my cheeks now flaming.
“Very hot. I love when my girl wears lingerie. I love when she wants to dress up for me, show me her body, grind on me. It’s all about the teasing, so even if you’re not comfortable at giving a lap dance, trust me, if you were in lingerie and just lightly grinding on my dick, I’d be fucking ecstatic.”
“But . . . what do I do, just sit there?”
“And move your hips. It’s his job to further the moment by running his hands up your thighs like this,” he says as he drags his fingers over my leg, shooting a punch of lust straight between my thighs.
Fuck, that feels good.
“Oh,” I say breathlessly.
“And he’s supposed to smooth his hand over your stomach, especially if you’re facing the other direction, your back to his chest. He’s supposed to attempt to touch your breasts but not really touch them. He’s supposed to get close, to run his finger along the underside but pull away. He’s supposed to turn you on so much that when he moves his hand back down your stomach and plays with the waistband of your underwear that your legs part even wider. You should be wet, throbbing, so turned on that you’re ready to come when he slips his fingers right against your clit.”
I can’t breathe.
I can’t speak.
I can barely hear him over the roar of my pulse in my ears.
Turned on . . . yeah, I’m there.
I know that I’m wet, I know that I’m throbbing, and that Breaker knows exactly how to entice a woman.
“Does he finger you?”
“Umm . . . sometimes,” I say.
“Does he suck on his fingers after he fingers you?”
“Uh, no, that’s not Brian.”
“That’s the best fucking part,” Breaker says as he wets his lips. “I love tasting a woman. I love having the flavor of her on my tongue as I drive into her.”
“Oh, yeah, Brian has not done that,” I say stupidly as I try to look away from his magnetic eyes.
“How does he fuck you? Does he tie you down? Does he let you ride him? Does he use toys?”
I swallow and wish at this moment that I had a drink, anything to quench my thirst from this conversation.
“Just regular, you know, nothing too fancy. Like, we do, uh, different positions, but nothing outside of that realm.” I cover my face and say, “This is so embarrassing.”
“Why?” he asks, lowering my hands from my face.
“Because clearly you’re more voracious in bed, and I look like a basic, vanilla bean girl compared to you.”
“Don’t compare yourself. That’s the first way to make yourself feel bad.”