The look on her face, right then, was worth the order alone. But he persevered, nodding towards the
The look on her face, right then, was worth the order alone. But he persevered, nodding towards the sofa, the shine of the leather, the glisten of it. It still gleamed, the puddle she’d left, as if it had its own light, that the force of her orgasm had given it some residual energy that was making it glow. “You’re not really serious…” That kind of statement always ended in an ellipsis, trailing off into incredulity before coming back with resignation. She didn’t meet his eyes, instead staring at the leather cushions, staring at her own mess. His hand came up, finger and thumb pinching her nipple so she gasped, before slowly turning it. “I’m deathly serious.” He didn’t sound it, though, amusement tumbling from his mouth as he spoke. She nodded, slipping down onto her knees, the floor letting out a thump of protest as she hit it, before she placed her palms on the cushions, propping herself up. He tutted, and she looked up, to be met with him slowly shaking his head. She sighed, brow curling as she implores him silently. But he didn’t relent, just smiled. Her hands move, then, forcing her to rest her chest against the sofa, the edges of her cooling puddle pressing against the tops of her breasts. One hand slipped between her legs, and she started again in earnest. It was a few moments before she started with the second half of the order, her mouth slipping open and just hesitating, staring down at her scarlet reflection in the mess of herself. And then her tongue came out and she started to lap herself up. She made another mess, this time on the floor. -- source link
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