His hands wander over my thighs and then he grips my ass cheeks, pulling me against him as he covers my * with his mouth. I let out a groan that sounds like an animal as the sensation– warm and wet, radiating heat through my body – nearly takes my breath away.
Then he groans, the sound sending little vibrations between my legs, and my knees almost buckle. It's been seven years since a man has had his tongue between my legs, and the feeling is so overpowering that I'm not sure if I can take it. His tongue circles over my clit, then lower, teasing me, taunting me. He sucks my clit into his mouth before releasing it, again and again until I'm letting out whimpering sounds that I can't seem to control.
"Your legs are shaking." His voice is low as he looks up at me, his hands firmly holding my thighs. I think that's the only thing keeping me from collapsing right now.
I nod. "All of me is shaking."
Killian makes a sound deep in his throat, a growl that I think means he wants me to be a quivering mess. He sits down on the floor and gestures to me. "Straddle my face," he orders.
"Come again?"
"Exactly." He chuckles as he lies back on the hardwood floor. "Get your little ass over here and kneel down. Now."
This man – this gruff, bearded, tattooed hulk of a man is telling me to kneel over his face. I hesitate for a moment, not because I don't want to feel his tongue on me of course I want to but because holy shit, no one has ever told me to kneel over their face before. I married young and my sex life was not adventurous, to say the least.
"You can't just lay down on the floor in the kitchen," I protest.
Killian snorts. "Do I look like I give a shit about the floor? Stop thinking."
"I. . . " I start. Why the hell do I feel so damn. . . shy when it comes to him?
He sits up, grabbing my ass cheeks and pulling me over his face, positioning me where he wants. "Stop thinking," he orders again. "You're going to put your * on my mouth right now and you're going to ride my fucking face until you come."
"Shit, Killian," I whisper. "Who says stuff like this?"
"A man who's hungry," he growls, pulling me roughly against him. I lean forward to brace myself on a nearby shelf as he covers my * with his mouth. If I thought his tongue was skillful before, it's nothing compared to what he does with it now. His tongue laps me, strokes me, and probes me as his hands grasp my ass cheeks, pulling me tighter onto his mouth.
His mouth. . .
I can't think about anything else except his mouth covering me. His beard is rough against my skin, but it doesn't hurt; it only adds to the sensations that quickly begin to overwhelm me.
His hands roam my back before he slides one palm to my breast, kneading it, his thumb stroking my nipple. I hear him moan between my legs, and the intensity of his desire for me only makes me hotter.
Then there's no more inhibition, no more feeling self-conscious or wondering what the hell I'm doing kneeling over this man in the middle of my damn kitchen or what the hell kind of mother does this with a man she hardly knows. I lose myself in every flick of his tongue over my clit and inside me. Everything around me dissolves, lost in the sensation of his touch, his mouth, and the heat that surges through my body, pooling between my legs.
I can hear myself making moaning sounds no longer the little whimpering sounds I made before but full-on groans and I don't care. I'm too far gone to care anymore. The only thing I care about is my overpowering need, the fact that I'm so close to crashing over the edge. My hands braced on the shelf, I ride his face, my movements faster as I get closer.
His hands are on my ass cheeks, his fingers spreading me, and when he presses a finger against my asshole, I cry out. It sends me rocketing over the cliff, the intensity of my orgasm so overwhelming the relief of it so palpable that I think I scream. Wave after wave of pleasure washes over me, and even as I come, he doesn't stop licking me. He holds me against him while he fucks me with his tongue, and it makes me ache for his cock inside me.
I barely catch my breath, my * throbbing so hard that I want to collapse in a heap on the floor, but Killian's hands are there, lifting me away from him. His beard glistens with my wetness, and the look he gives me is total lust.
"I needed that." His voice is rough and ragged.
"You needed that?" I laugh, suddenly giddy and light.
"Damn straight." He sits up, sliding me down to his lap where his hardness is readily apparent. Hardness isn't the word for it his cock feels like a damn rod underneath his jeans.
I lean forward and kiss him softly on the lips, grinding my * against his cock, and he takes a handful of hair at the nape of my neck, holding my head close and kissing me hard. When his tongue finds mine, I can feel his cock twitch against me and heat rushes between my legs again.
Then he tears his lips from mine. "Opal will be wondering where you are."
"Probably not," I say wryly, thinking of Opal's interest in pushing the two of us together.
His hands on my waist, he lifts me up before I can object, then pulls me to my feet, smacking my ass lightly.
"Killian, I "