Page 114 of Free Agent

“That’s not what you implied in that interview.”

“Fuck that interview.”

“I know,” I whimpered as my focus slipped, inescapably drawn to the arousal, the stimulation of what his hand was doing between my legs. “I just… I can’t be all in with someone who isn’t all in with me.”

His hand stopped, eyes locked with mine.

“You said you weren’t interested in that,” I told him. “So if you’re telling me something different now, telling me something has changed… I need you to mean it.”

I wasn’t sure I’d survive anything else.

I didn’t say that part though.

“I don’t say things I don’t mean,” Tatum spoke up.

Now, he completely removed his hand, moved away from me.

To grab a nearby parsons chair.

To sit me down.

Kneel in front of me.

Spread my legs open wide.

He started at my knee, planting soft kisses interspersed with long, lazy licks. My breath caught in my throat as I watched, riveted, as he made his way up one thigh. In the middle, he teased me with a slow tongue kiss on my clit, then made his way back down the other side.

Was this my punishment?

Being tortured with the pleasure of his hands gently gliding up my calves, my thighs, the pads of his fingers gripping into my flesh as he played with me with his tongue?

He pushed his face between my legs, breathing me in, nose pressed to my clit as he spread me open, dipped his head to lick me there before coming up to tease my clit with his tongue.

I was right on the verge of protest when he covered my clit with his mouth, suckling as his tongue moved, undulating against my sensitive bud.

It was like a lightning strike of pleasure that had me gripping his head, gripping the sides of the chair, trying desperately to hold on to anything to keep myself grounded.

And he went harder still.

Fingers embedded deep, mouth latched in place, flicking and humming and driving me insane.

He kept the pressure right there, his fingers right there, his tongue right there, looking me dead in the face as he pushed me over the edge of pleasure.

I was barely finished cumming before he was up on his knees in front of the chair, pants undone.

My dress was already hiked around my hips, legs inoperable and open, welcoming him inside me.

And that was exactly where he went, burying his dick inside me so hard, so fast, I felt the slap of his balls as our hips met.

Again and again and again.

No buildup necessary.

I was soaked, and he was hard.

Perfect conditions for fast, deep strokes that had me hanging onto his shoulders, hooking my legs around his hips, mouth open, moaning with every stroke.

His fingers dug into the nape of my neck, gripping me there and pulling me in so he could bury his tongue in my mouth as he stroked.