Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 104745 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104745 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
“I want…to…” She swallows, embarrassed. “Give you a. You know. A…”
“A blow job?” I supply, ’cause she can’t seem to get the words out.
Daisy nods.
“I thought I was on a sex ban,” I whisper back.
“A blowie isn’t sex.”
A blowie?
I chuckle as softly as I can because this bathroom is mostly tile and metal stalls so I don’t want my voice to echo.
“No, a blow job isn’t sex, but you have to admit it’s just as intimate.”
“But…”
I press my mouth against hers to quiet her. “Shh. Someone might walk in.”
Her back is pressed against the wall when I sink to my knees in front of her, raising her skirt and pulling down her panties. It’s easy to take one of her legs and lift it over my shoulder.
“Oh god,” she says for the second time. “What are you doing?”
“I want to make you feel good.” I repeat the same words she just uttered back to her, watching the expression on her face turn from surprised to shocked to pleased.
Her mouth tips into a slow smile. “If you insist.”
“I do. Now be quiet before someone walks through the door.”
As if I’d conjured the thought, the bathroom door flies open, followed immediately by heels clicking across the floor and going to the sink.
Must be a server.
We hear the sound of the soap dispenser.
I lick Daisy’s clit once.
Twice.
Three times.
When the water goes on, and the woman begins washing her hands, I suck that little bud, sucking and licking, Daisy’s hands gripping my shoulders for support—and to gain self-control.
I glance up to see her biting on her bottom lip.
Nostrils flared.
A blush crosses her cheeks.
I spread her pussy with my fingers to give myself more access to her sweet spot and go at it aggressively—more aggressive than when I went down on her at the fraternity house. This act of foreplay is a race against time. It’s not like we can stay in here all night.
I lick her as the woman in the bathroom blow-dries her hands, taking her sweet time doing so, the loud whirrrr from the air dryer is the perfect disguise when Daisy lets out a little moan.
An accident, I’m sure.
She’s purring like a cat.
Legs quiver.
My thumb rolls over her clit as I suck, lips covering her entire pussy, getting her soaking wet.
I want her panties soaked when I’m done, soaked from my lips and her own lust so she has to sit in it while we’re at the dinner table, a reminder I was between her thighs yet again.
Her pussy smells like baby powder.
Tastes like honey.
Sweet.
Perfect.
The woman must be looking at her reflection in the mirror because it’s gone quiet, but she hasn’t left the room. Then keys on a cell phone tapping. The telltale whoosh of a message being sent into cyberspace.
None of it distracts me.
In fact, it spurs me on, one of my large hands sliding from her front to her backside, my forefinger flirting perilously close to her asshole.
I move it back and forth, testing the waters.
When she doesn’t protest, I push my finger inside—not all the way, just a fraction of an inch.
That does the trick.
That pushes her over the edge, and she’s tapping frantically on my shoulders. Fingers grip my hair, tugging.
She’s ready to come.
I suck harder, finger still up her ass.
She has her head tilted back on the tile wall, and her legs quiver—enough that I know her body is about to be wracked with shivers and tingles in her pussy.
Yeah, baby, come for me.
I milk it out of her, loving every second of her release, knowing how difficult it is for her to keep quiet and to stop herself from crying out.
I feel her orgasm on my tongue, pressing it deep inside her, licking her cum and swallowing it.
I suck a few seconds more to draw it out before I pull back, resting on my haunches, watching her breasts heave up and down.
One hand covers her mouth.
One hand covers her beating heart.
Daisy
He pulls my thong up because I don’t have the strength to do it on my own; I’m not even sure how I’m supposed to manage walking back into the restaurant. Surely, I’ll need to lean on him for support.
My legs feel like Jell-O.
My vajayjay is a mess.
There’s no way I can walk.
And how the hell am I going to look the server in the eye when he brings us our dinner—if he hasn’t done so already? I look like I’ve been fucked, but I was only fucked with his mouth.
Again.
Twice in a bathroom.
Great record, Daisy.
I fix myself before we unlock the stall and walk to the sinks, Drake kissing me on the forehead and slapping me on the ass before soaping his hands and washing them. He slowly pulls the door open a fraction and peers through the crack to see if anyone is lingering.