Page 46 of Offensive Plays

"Libby," he whispers against my skin, his lips trailing higher and higher up.

"Yeah?" I breathe out.

"Tell me what you want me to do."

Oh my god. Those words. The feel of the dryer vibrating under my naked skin. His touch on me.

"I want to feel your mouth on me," I answer.

He smiles, and I feel his lips stretch on my skin as he does. "Where, Libby? Be specific."

He wants me to spell it out for him? "On my... my... "

"Pussy?" He finishes for me.

"Yes," I gasp out.

"Mmmm. I've been dying to taste your sweet pussy, Libby," his voice is raspy.

I moan as he continues to kiss my thigh. His lips are now right at my core as he pauses over my birthmark. "But I need to hear you say it."

He looks up at me, splayed open for him. "I want you to eat my pussy, Michael."

I say it with as much force as I can gather. He smiles wickedly.

“It would be my pleasure, butterfly.”

My world crashes. He does know it was me. But before I can say anything about it he’s swiping his tongue against my skin, holding my legs open wide for him. And he hums his appreciation as he does it again and again.

I'm going to lose it. There's no way I'll be able to last long like this. But he doesn't stop. He continues to lap me up like I'm a dessert.

"Oh my god," I gasp out, throwing my head back. The sensations are overwhelming.

Michael stops suddenly.

"What are you doing?" I whisper.

He looks back at the open door and kicks it closed before going back to my center. Almost instantly I'm riding a wave a pleasure brought on by his tongue and I can't help but cry out.

"Atta girl," he rasps, drinking in my pleasure. "You come so beautifully, Libby.”

He steps back still holding my legs open and watches me as I continue to feel the pulsing sensations of my orgasm.

"So beautiful," he breathes out. His eyes finally meet mine once the aftershocks have subsided.

"I... I don't know what to say," I admit, my hands covering my eyes.

He finally pulls back. "You should go get some rest. Wouldn't want you to look haggard for your photoshoot." He repeats the words I told him earlier in the night.

“Michael,” I say, gulping. “We should talk.”

"Goodnight, Libby." He turns and goes out the door, leaving me sated and still half naked on top of the dryer.

What the hell just happened?

Chapter 11

Michael