[18+] Mark just wants a quiet life. With plenty of action at work, he has no interest in bringing the drama home with him. But he does need a flatmate, and when blonde bombshell Zoe crashes onto the scene, she's more than he bargained for.
Zoe is a...
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February 2008
MARK
The towel falls apart. Rather than gawk over her tits like I used to, I shuffle down her body, lock a hand on each knee, and prise her thighs apart.
A tiny gasp evolves into a shaky moan as I stare at her glistening pussy, pink and swollen. I lower my face between her legs. Wafts of coconut shower gel drift through the air. Normally I hate the sickly-sweet smell when it lingers in the bathroom after her showers, but blended with the musky scent of her arousal, it's like an addictive Eau de Zoe.
"Please..." she murmurs.
As much as I'd love to hear her beg for me, I lack the patience. Spreading her thighs wider, I press the tip of my tongue against her clit and rotate it in firm circles. She moans. Writhes. Trembling fingers clasp tufts of my hair, encouraging my rhythm.
I don't usually like being told what to do in bed, but she needs the control after feeling helpless all day, so I allow it. When she realises that, her directions grow in confidence. She pushes my head further down, then whimpers as I lap the juices dipping from her pussy.
When I switch back to her clit, I push two fingers inside her to replace my tongue. My strokes are slow but deep, curling in just the spot that sends her crazy. And it still does. Six months might have passed, but I can remember what gets her off like I've never stopped doing it.
As she starts churning against my face, her tell-tale sign of approaching an orgasm, I suck harder at her clit and rub my fingertips against the sensitive spot inside her.
"Don't stop. Don't stop. Don't—Ah!"
Her hips lift from the bed as she clenches and pulsates around my fingers.
While she catches her breath, I undress. Hazy eyes track each item of clothing I remove, until I kick off my boxers and climb back onto the bed.
"How'd you want it?" I ask, gruff.
For a moment, she seems to think about it. Assess her options. A tooth sinks into her bottom lip. She's over-thinking. Second-guessing.
To bring her back, I close my palm around her throat, wait until the worry melts into desire again, and repeat my question.
"How do you want me to fuck you?"
Her breath hitches, mouth parting. Excitement swims in her eyes. She loves it when I'm bossy. And tonight I can be anything she wants me to be. Even the dirty talk, which usually stays locked up inside my head. I'll make an exception.
But of course she surprises me. It's like she's made it her lifelong mission to keep me on my toes. Instead of mellowing under my touch and begging for me, she wriggles into a sitting position and shoves me down onto my back.
