Page 23 of Deep in You

I moan a little, arching against his hand, as he continues to gently rotate against my clit. “I… can’t… say I’d complain,” I murmur, losing myself as I start to buck against his palm.

“But you aren’t begging for me either.” He catches my eye and tsks, shaking his head. “On the other hand, I could just get you nice and wet for me…” He flicks his finger along my slit once more, coating himself in more of my juices, proving how wet I already am. “And then leave you to your own devices. You do have plenty of those. Perhaps you’d prefer.” He steps back, and slips his hand out of my pants.

I groan in frustration and sit up to reach for him. He laughs and wraps an arm around my waist. Then he drops to his knees in front of me.

My breath catches in my throat. The sight of this sexy, hot as hell man kneeling between my legs sets me off almost as much as the feeling of his fingers exploring my pussy.

“Go on, Carmine. You know you want me to.” He leans in to catch my jeans in his teeth. With one sharp tug, he draws them down my hips. I watch as he inches them down further, further, until they fall to my knees. Then he sits back up and traces his tongue across the front of my panties.

I moan. I can feel his hot, wet tongue through the thin fabric. Surely he can taste me through it too. I’m soaking at this point.


I gaze down at him through hooded eyes, lust driving me wild. “How... much begging are we talking?” I manage to ask between pants. The panting only gets worse when he bites the hem of my panties and tugs them down my hips after my jeans.

Reflexively, I check over his shoulder to see that the door is closed. But there’s no one else here today. I have nothing to worry about.

I glance back at him, still breathing fast.

He grins up at me and licks his way from my knee all the way up my inner thigh, almost to the crease where my leg meets my hip. “Only a little.” His eyes go dark, mischievous. “I just want to hear you scream my name.”

“Caleb…”

He laughs, deep in his throat, and pushes me backwards across the table once more. Then he spreads my knees and bites my inner thigh, quick and sharp. I cry out faintly.

“You’re going to have to do way better than that, dirty girl.”

“Caleb, please…” I start, swallowing my pride.

He smirks up at me, and kisses his way a little higher. A little closer to my pussy. “Better. Be more specific, Carmine. I need details.”

“Caleb, please lick my pussy,” I gasp.

His tongue hovers just beside my pussy lips now. He leans up to plant a kiss on my mound, his lower lip almost grazing my clit. “Louder. More.”

“Please, Caleb,” I cry out this time. “Fucking eat me out.”

He pushes my legs even wider, grinning. “That’s more like it.” Then he cups my ass, pulls it off the table with both hands gripping tight on either cheek, and delves his tongue into my slit.

I moan and buck against him, the sensation overwhelming—his hot wet tongue against my sensitive skin. He licks from back to front and back again, over and over, sloppy and wet and messy, his hot tongue exploring every inch of my cleft. Then he pushes deeper, presses his tongue between my lips and inside my pussy, and I cry out louder, leaning back against the table.

He swirls his tongue inside me, making my hips buck. Then he pulls my pussy against his face and laps his flat, planed tongue along my clit, and I gasp, the pressure starting to build. He keeps going, licking me hard and fast, and at the same time pushing one finger into my pussy. He laps at my clit as he fingers my pussy, adding another finger, then another, until he has three fingers deep inside me, curling them up against my inner wall, stroking my G-spot while he licks and sucks at my clit.

Soon I’m screaming, head back, spots dancing in my vision as the orgasm sweeps through me. He doesn’t stop, just keeps licking me, and before long, a second one hits me, making my pussy clench and my body shake as I moan desperately.

Then I hear a distant beep, and I rocket off the desk, breathing hard as I grab for my jeans.

“Where’s the fire?” he asks, laughing.

I nod toward the kitchen. “It’ll be in there unless we go rescue that cake.”

7

Against all odds, we manage not to burn the cake and Caleb leaves for something else he has on his schedule. He kisses me goodbye—a long, hot, searing kiss that’s just reminds me again how fucking good he is with his tongue.

But as I watch him drive away while I lock up the bakery, I can’t help but wonder where he’s off to now. Who he’s off to now. What other clients might be on his schedule.

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