I don’t want the same for the girl beneath me. Tomorrow, when she lands back on earth, she’ll regret so carelessly giving me something she can never recapture.
My gaze drops to her splayed legs. She’s bare beneath her skirt. Mimicking her earlier action, I lick my lips at the sight of her pink pussy. The scent of her arousal flares my nostrils, opens my nose wide, shooting straight to my head and my nuts.
I finger her. Her eyes slip closed as she lifts her hips up to my touch.
“Let’s stick to licking and sucking,” I tell her gruffly. “Your innocence means more to you than a quick fuck with me.”
Her lids lift and she offers me a lazy look. “I wouldn’t have expected you to be a one-minute man, Sloane.”
The taunt should piss me off, but I laugh at her cheek and sass. “Whether I fuck for a minute or an hour isn’t your business.”
She snorts. “Virginity is just a condition of the body. It’s nothing fucking special.”
Ignoring her words, I drop to my knees in front of the sofa, slide her to the edge of the cushion, and shoulder her thighs apart. She’s hot and wet, her aroma invading my senses. When I slide my tongue along her seam, she groans. Our gazes meet. She shoves her top up, squeezing her breasts and tugging her nipples.
Hands clutching her ass, I eat at her pussy, while she moves against my tongue. Uninhibited, she’s loud when she comes, coating my mouth with her slippery juice.
As her trembles subside, she lifts herself and kisses me as if she wants to replace my tongue with hers. She’s wild, trembling when I lick her ears and neck. I tangle my hands into her hair and hold her head back.
“I want to suck you off.”
Her virginity is intact so my good deed for the evening is done. She’s here. She’s high. And she wants to blow me. No complaints from me.
Silent, I lift her as I stand and reseat myself. She wiggles to her knees and, together, we free my straining cock. She gobbles in my head and wraps both hands around the thick length, working me with expert fingers and mouth. My hand at the back of her head isn’t forceful or necessary. She needs no encouragement. It’s just a familiar position for me. I pump my hips to her rhythm and she quickens her pace.
“Oh fuck, baby,” I croon to her. Still pumping me with her hands, she licks my balls. She perceives I’m close to coming and drops saliva on my cock, distributing it with her hands and feasting upon my dick again. She doesn’t stop until she’s swallowed every last drop of my cum.
“You’re delicious.” Wide, confused eyes search our surroundings. She touches her swollen lips, then knees her way to a side table, pulling a tiny plastic bag from her tiny skirt pocket.
Covering my dick, I get to my feet. Knowing she’s high and watching her get high are two different entities. I might bomb this acid test and failure just isn’t an option. “Don’t.”
She hangs her head and her hair drapes around her. “I’m sorry,” she mumbles. “I didn’t think about how this would affect you with your history. I’d never do anything to jeopardize you or your music.”
“You don’t care that you’re jeopardizing yourself?”
Pushing her hair away, she lifts her face to me. A distressed, wistful look saddens her. “You’re so brilliant. The world would be lost without you.”
I crouch next to her and knuckle her cheeks. Her lipstick is smeared but her eye makeup and her blush is still intact. No whore is she. She is on a road to doom, though. “And you?” I question hoarsely. “No one would feel your loss?”
“No one remembers I’m alive.”
Her statement echoes in my brain. It’s a play on my words from one of my most infamous interviews. Everyone knows I’m alive.
One is as bad as the other. In a fishbowl, attention limits you. With one snapshot or word, you’re either loved, admired, scorned, or hated. Sometimes, it’s a combination. Solitary, though, isolation is the enemy.
Something’s broken in us. Me. Her. My fragments feel irreparable. Is she so shattered, too?
Sighing, I nod, which she mistakes as consent and reaches for the baggie again.
“No,” I grit in warning.
She blinks and her fingers freeze. My harsh tone appeals to her. I can see it in her eyes. Adrenaline surges through me at the thought of ordering her around and bending her to my will. I kiss her again. “You realize I don’t even know your name?”
“Does it fucking matter? I doubt you’d remember it. I gave you what you wanted. A dick suck.”
Her attitude fucks me off. I jerk her to her feet and tower over her. “A virgin whore is a new concept for me.”
My words wilt her, but before she responds, the door opens. Another man strolls in, immediately recognizable as a certified asshole as indicated by his careless regard and negligent pose. Zeroing in on the lipstick smearing his mouth, I lift a brow. As he swipes a hand over his guilty lips, his gaze roams between me and the strung-out, misled little goddess.