Page 62 of Rootbound
The cadence of my breathing should feel embarrassing, but Henry unwrapping me peels away the veil on my desire, on his, every warm moment between us stoking this heat that’s broken loose.
“Now, ladies. You’ll have my attention again soon enough, but I have been thinking about this pussy for far too long, now,” he says to my chest, staring at me like I’m something miraculous.
Wait—“Are you talking to my tits?”
“Shhhh, we’re in the middle of something,” he admonishes, placing a finger over my lips.
I bark out a giddy laugh, the motion making me bounce, and his playfulness disappears. He swallows once. Twice. Then clenches his jaw and closes his eyes.
“Fuck. I am overstimulated.”
“I’d like to be,” I tease, and it has the intended effect. He smiles again and huffs a laugh. I feel the warmth of it in my very bones.
“I got you, honey.” He slides his palms over my tips one more time, making them impossibly harder, tighter, causing me to groan once before he quickly plants a sucking kiss on both. He then drags me down the table, kisses the inside of my knee, and hooks my booted foot over his shoulder, exposing me entirely.
“Fuck, Tait. This pussy is so pretty.” He runs the backs of two fingers up my seam, and I whimper, wondering how long he plans to make me wait until he touches me where I need it most. The answer is not long. He splays his palm across my pubic bone and thumbs my clit lovingly.
The way he watches, studies, and marvels as he touches me is filthy, perverse… like he is getting as much out of it as I am. He dips his thumb and drags more wetness up, circling, moving back and forth lightly across the tip, my nerves flooding with sensation at every swipe.
He twists his hand then and slides a finger into me slowly as he tears his gaze back to my eyes. His stubble scratches the inside of my knee. He shakes his head ruefully even as he gives me another crooked smile. “Ah, honey. This is gonna be a tight fit.”
I feel heat surge to my face and gather, then ripple out through my core. Oh, God, I fucking hope. “Yes.”
My eyes roll back in my head as he puts my foot back down on the table and hooks a second finger into me, thumbing my clit all the while, kneading my thigh with his free palm. My many daydreams of his massive hands pale in comparison to this.
“I can’t count how many times I’ve thought about this, Tait. Is this really happening?” he says, echoing my thoughts. His free hand squeezes my knee and I realize he wants me to respond.
“Fuck, if it’s not then it’s the best dream I’ve ever had.” I moan, long and hoarse as he drags his fingers down my inner wall along a sensitive spot.
“Good girl, there it is.” Shit, that mouth on him sends a fresh wave of lust over me, and then that same mouth licks my clit as his fingers continue to pump and drag.
My back arches off the table and I prop up onto one elbow so I can watch what he does to me, winding my fingers in his hair with my other hand and grinding against his face shamelessly. That feeling begins to build, each lap of his tongue in time with that drag against that inner sensitive spot, piling on one another until I’m gyrating and trembling with need to come.
I register his arm at the corner of my vision, forearm muscles working as he adjusts himself then, absent-mindedly rubbing himself to what he’s doing to me, and my blood sings, rushing.
I whimper, cresting that edge but not falling time and time again. “I’m sorry, this—this is taking too long.”
He doesn’t chuckle, just meets my gaze with his hazy one, and says, “Baby, I’m determined to finish a meal once tonight, I don’t care how fucking long it takes.” My eyes shutter, but fly back open to his impaling gold ones as he sucks the whole bud of me into his mouth, the effect like pulling loose a lever that frees my orgasm.
The wave crashes over me, sensation exploding down my limbs, and then thumping back up and through me. When I try to pull away, over-sensitized, he places a perfectly pressured kiss to my apex while pushing that button from the inside again, and it crashes anew.
I scream out as the second orgasm pumps out of me brutally.
I come back down to earth to find Henry cradling the back of my head, planting tender kisses to the corners of my panting mouth, to the tears that have leaked out of the corners of my eyes to slide down my temples.
“God. Oh… Oh my god,” I whisper.
“It’s Henry, actually, but feel free to worship all you’d like.” And his smile is everything, all dimples and stubble and wet beard, swollen lips and flushed cheeks.
I laugh like a cartoon mental patient again, sated beyond sanity. “I might have to,” I say, and I might mean it. It’s the reverence onhisface that ignites me again, though, so I drag his face back to mine and kiss him deeply. “Take me to bed?” I ask.
“You don’t want me to feed you first?”
“No, Henry, I want to you fuck me.”
I swear I see his pupils dilate again. He drags my body off of the table and tosses me over his shoulder, my dress barely hanging on to any part of me, and I can’t stifle a giggle as he runs us up the stairs.
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