I hope I didn’t fuck up my bikini trim.
I hope he didn’t expect me completely hairless.
I hope my thighs look okay.
I hope he likes what he sees.
I hope my…
My thoughts fail me as my underwear hangs from one foot and his hands go between my thighs, parting them.
Oh god.
Oh my god.
His thumbs press into my inner thighs, his fingers on the outside, a firm hold on both legs. He stands between my parted knees.
Every single part of me is on the razor edge of anticipation, waiting, waiting, waiting for him to do something.
What does he want from me?
He murmurs something in Spanish, something that makes his voice go all throaty, like it’s choking with lust.
My heart tries to climb out between my ribs.
The world slows its spin.
It’s like all the planets are fixed to this place, a new orbit.
It’s pretty obvious what he wants from me.
“So beautiful,” he manages to whisper in English. “Violet…if you could see what I see.”
I don’t want to answer that because I’m pretty sure I know exactly what he’s looking at. Every pink bit of me, spread for him and on display.
I have never, ever felt so vulnerable and exposed in all my life.
His hands start to move up my thighs, squeezing my skin as he goes.
He lets out a low moan followed by a sharp intake of breath.
I feel his gaze burning over me. I suck on my lower lip, my lungs constricting.
His hands skirt down my thighs now, to my knees.
I feel him going lower, a shuffle as he adjusts himself.
I gasp as his tongue licks at the soft skin of my inner thigh.
It feels like wet silk.
Electric.
His tongue slowly moves up, his hands gripping my thighs, then my hips, then scooping underneath to grab a firm hold of my ass. The brush of his stubble on my skin feels unreal.
Is this really happening?
But the thought doesn’t stay because all I can think about is exactly what’s happening.
All I can do is be.
He gently kisses the softness between my legs and then I feel his tongue slide, wet and long, among my barest parts.
My body is washed with prickles from top to bottom, a heady mix of hot and cold that makes my eyes roll back into my head, my tongue want to loll out of my mouth.
With his fingers digging into my hips, he moans into me, the vibrations sending me to the moon while he shrugs me forward an inch so his mouth envelopes my clit.
Holy fucking hell.
I groan, my body completely swept away by the feeling as his tongue laps me up in long languid strokes, each one pushing my nerves to the edge. With the blindfold on, everything is heightened, and whatever shock or shame or embarrassment or vanity I had has completely disappeared and is replaced by one thing:
Need.
I want more. Need more.
His tongue is impossibly skilled, working me up and down before swirling in circles around my clit. Every second that passes, I feel my legs opening up more and more for him as I hold on to the chair cushions, as if they’ll keep me from flying off this ride.
He wants me to fly off. This was his whole point.
He sure has a way of doing it.
“You taste like heaven,” he murmurs, his mouth pulling away briefly while I feel his finger prod my entrance. “Better than heaven.” He pushes his finger in slowly and I automatically clench around it, wanting more.
He makes a sound of amusement, like he knows what I want and he’s going to take his time giving it to me.
He’s a tease.
He’s really taking his time.
It’s…torturous.
Then, two fingers follow.
Three.
I suck in my breath, stretching around his fingers. My body might want it but it’s not used to it.
“Relax,” he whispers. He lifts my leg to get around to the side of the chair, his one hand still inside me, his fingers moving in and out in an aching rhythm. He grabs my bra and pulls the cup down so my breast is exposed. My nipple hardens in the air before his lips close over it.
He sucks it in, my nerves shooting in firestorms all the way to my toes.
“Oh god,” I cry out as he takes my nipple between his teeth and pinches it. Bursts of hot pain radiate outward, fizzling into a heady bliss.
He soothes the pain by licking it tenderly, too tenderly. I’m practically squirming beneath him, his fingers still thrusting inside as his thumb presses over my clit.
Everything is building up, up, up.
Vicente stars licking a hot path away from my breast, up to my collarbone, which he grazes gently with his teeth.
Then nips my shoulder.
My neck.
Small bites before he starts sucking right below my ear.
I’m the lit wire at the end of dynamite, fizzing and sparking and…
“Kiss me,” I manage to say as he devours my neck. “Please.”
He grunts, breathless, and pulls away. I can see the shadow of him come over me, feel his hot breath on my cheek.
Nothing happens. Even his fingers have stilled inside me.
He removes them and now I am empty, aching for him. I’ve never felt so ravenous, so hungry, so starved. I had no idea how deprived I was for this.
But Vicente seemed to know. Says all the right things, knows all the right things.
Does all the right things.
He runs his finger over my mouth and I can taste myself on it, salty, musky, sweet. Then he reaches up and slides the tie off my eyes.
I blink up at his face, trying to focus, squinting at the light.