Revue

by K. M. Golland

  I moaned, impatiently. “Josh.”

  “Shh,” he whispered, leaning forward and kissing the top of my pussy.

  I couldn’t help it and bucked into him, wanting more. Wanting him to go lower. Wanting to feel his tongue.

  “Greedy girl.”

  I nodded. “More.”

  His finger slid across my clit, sending a bolt of pleasure right through me, and heat to the tip of my head.

  I squirmed.

  He chuckled.

  “You’re so evil,” I rasped.

  “If I were evil, would I do this?”

  His head dipped again, and wet warmth lathed my pussy in one long, slow swipe before his lips clamped around my clit.

  “Oh fuck!” I cried out, gripping his head and clenching my thighs.

  My tense legs were fought when he clasped his hands around them and pried them apart, growling like a freakin’ lion as he devoured me with his mouth. The desperation, the rabidness … the sheer delectable aggression he displayed just to have me on the tip of his tongue. It was all too much.

  Josh’s tongue flicked my clit with rapid speed, working me like crazy. Lifting my head, I had to see his face, his eyes, which were blazing with such determination that his sheer stare alone all but had me coming.

  My eyelids fell shut and stars began painting the insides of them, sparkling and appearing one by one. He dipped his tongue inside me, once, twice, three times, and all of a sudden I had the fucking Milky Way twinkling before my closed eyes.

  I loved stars.

  They were beautiful.

  “Oh. My. God!” I cried out, as those luminous beauties faded into black.

  Josh shuffled, his lips leaving my skin. “I’m not done yet.”

  “Really?” I barely voiced, my breath still absent. The struggle to suck in oxygen, together with lift one lone eyelid was real, but I managed it in good time.

  “Yeah, I just found this.” He held up my BOB, rotating it between his fingers like a baton twirler.

  My cheeks flamed. BOBs were private.

  “Where’d you get that?”

  “It was sitting on top of your suitcase,” he explained, glistening, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Been busy, sweetheart?”

  Fuck! Yeah, I have. There’s this arrogant cockhead who gets me all hot and bothered. BOB knows how to help me with that.

  “Maybe. Maybe Not.”

  I had nothing. Really, what could I say? I may as well have talked about pizza or swings or guinea pigs. It wouldn’t have mattered. BOBs accidentally placed on top of suitcases spoke for themselves.

  A purposeful gleam surfaced to his eyes, and he pressed the ‘on’ button, my BOB buzzing to life in his hand. That all too familiar sound vibrated through my chest, filtering deep and spreading anticipation like wildfire as he lowered his hand between my legs.

  He touched.

  I jolted.

  He pulled away.

  I frowned.

  The man was the devil incarnate, or perhaps an Incubus. Either way, in this moment, my body was his to do with as he pleased.

  “Josh, please,” I begged unashamedly, desperately needing that sweet buzz between my legs.

  Feeling the tip of his finger slide through my soaking wet sex, I gripped the sheets and bowed my back, angling my pussy so that he could easily enter me. I needed the friction, needed the internal massage. I needed something inside me—something warm and life-like, not a silicon machine.

  He teased my opening with his fingertip, swirling my skin and slowly stretching. It stole my already stolen breath, my cognition, and my will to stay in control. “In. Please! Please, just put your fucking finger in.”

  He didn’t hesitate and pushed inside me, sliding back out again, teasingly, before delving back inside.

  Push. Withdraw. Swirl. Repeat. Oh my God, it’s heaven!

  “So fucking wet and tight,” he murmured, the sound of tortured bliss evident in his tone.

  What he was doing was glorious, so incredibly good—the pressure, the push, the rhythm … perfect.

  I closed my eyes and moaned. “So good, Josh. So, so good.”

  The buzz of BOB gently hit my clit, his finger pumping me harder, and I cried out, squirming beneath him. “Josh, I can’t. Oh my God! I can’t—” And BAM, there were those twinkly little sex-stars again, popping like firecrackers before me.

  I came.

  Hard.

  And long.

  Twice.

  Until he removed BOB and covered my mouth with his own, kissing the last bit of life right out of me.

  “Shit!” I gasped, sated beyond belief when our lips parted. “That was awesome.”

  “You’re telling me. Can’t wait to fuck your pretty little cunt properly, sweetheart.”

  I turned on my side, mimicking his propped up position by resting my head in my hand. “Are you angry?” I asked, feeling terrible for not pleasing him.

  “No. A little frustrated, maybe. But I get it. You need to know you can trust me first.”

  My gaze dropped to the bed. “I’m sorry.”

  He stretched forward and lightly kissed my lips. “Don’t be.” He then rolled to the edge of my bed and stood.

  “Wait! Where are you going?”

  “Back to my room.”

  “What?” I searched his eyes, shocked, my blood running cold.

  “Well, yeah. I have to go and rub one out now.” My blood thawed and my gaze dropped to his crotch. He grabbed it, giving it a light squeeze. “What? You didn’t think that after doing that to you, and seeing you come apart like that, that I wouldn’t need to blow off steam too?”

  I bit my lip, sight still glued to his groin. “Then do it. Here. Now.” Looking up, I met his heavy gaze and moved to sit on my knees. “I want to see you come.”

  A sexy noise reverberated from within his throat—as if needing to clear the ‘holy fuck!’ that was lodged there—and flexed his hand over his cock, both movements prompting me to lick my lips.

  “Don’t lick your lips unless you want this between them, sweetheart.”

  I couldn’t help it and licked them again, yet I didn’t know if what I wanted was to give him a blowjob just yet. That was going a little faster than the slow I had planned. But then again, seeing him before me—hard bulge in his hand—I wasn’t ruling it out.

  “Rub, Josh,” I said with authority, reaching up to pinch my nipple.

  He made the ‘holy fuck’ noise again and unbuttoned his jeans, pushing them down and allowing his cock to spring free. It bobbed before me, thick and hard, pre-cum glistening on his smooth crown.

  I swallowed … barely.

  I breathed … barely.

  Sweet Jesus, that thing looked delicious! But let’s face it, like babies, not all cocks were gorgeous. Some were weird looking and, at first glance, all you could do was mentally will your lips to part and say the words ‘Mm … yum’ when really you were thinking ‘er … um’.

  I certainly wasn’t thinking that, though. Josh’s cock really was a sight to behold, just like the rest of him. It had me shifting just slightly in preparation for his stroking to begin. And damn, did I want to watch him stroke that thing. I’d never wanted to see something so bad in my life. In fact, I was almost ready to lean over the bed, reach for my camera and take a picture of him in stroking action. Oh … I wonder if he’ll let me?

  Biting my lip, I nodded confidently for him to proceed, which he did … after an eyebrow raise at my brashness. He then reached behind his neck, lifted his T-shirt over his head and threw it to the side, just like a seasoned pro revue performer.

  Impressive. No … really, impressive.

  I was super impressed with the man before me, in all his naked glory with said gorgeous, glistening cock. Yes, bravo. And even more bravo when his hand dropped and palmed the base of his shaft.

  I shifted again, watching as his hand slowly slid up and back down, up and back down, the action loving and tender. It was hot as fuck.

 
More pre-cum beaded after a few pumps, deliciously coating his hand and shaft as he worked himself. It made my mouth water, my throat thick. I wanted to taste him, to run my tongue along the same path as his hand, kiss his smooth tip, and slide him inside my mouth, as far as he would go.

  Good God.

  A low grunt sounded and his rippled abdomen tensed. The movement of his hand increased, the slick sound of his fluids against the slapping of his skin just wonderful. I watched in awe as he pumped vigorously, head falling back and neck tensed. Oh no, you don’t.

  “Eyes on me,” I demanded, and was met with a fiery stare.

  His eyes flamed and he stepped forward, his cock mere centimetres from my belly. I moved quickly, sitting on my butt, legs on either side of his, ready for him to come on my tits.

  “Do it,” I said, pushing them forth.

  He jolted.

  I waited.

  Warmth hit my chest and stomach, his seed spilling all over me as he groaned and clenched his cock. It was beautiful.

  Breathing hard, we stared at each other, the horrid post-coital who-says-what or who-does-what first thick in the air. I was nervous as hell, terrified even, that he’d just zip up and fuck off like he normally did.

  What a horrible feeling to have: to be so unsure of your man’s mood or thoughts after the act. To be honest, the apprehension of whether you were still wanted or not was outright awful. I don’t think I can do this every time.

  Before I could get up and make a mad dash to the confines of the bathroom, his lips crashed onto mine, his strong, hard body pushing me back onto the bed.

  His cum smeared between us as his chest covered mine and his tongue sought a partner to dance ferociously with. I internally sighed and followed his lead, all apprehension I’d just felt dwindling with every stroke of his tongue and caress of his hand.

  “Slow ain’t all that bad, sweetheart.”

  “No, not bad at all,” I mumbled.

  He plied my face with soft kisses, and it was almost surreal, the gentleness and loving side of him somewhat foreign. Not that I was complaining. At all. It was lovely … he was lovely. This moment was lovely.

  “So, I’m gonna give you two choices. One: we stay here, fall asleep and wake up cum-stuck in the morning. Or two: we hop into the bath, have water sex, and then get back into bed.”

  I laughed. “How ’bout we have that bath and go from there, huh?”

  “Choice two it is.”

  He pulled himself up and off the bed, and made his way over to the mini bar. “Shit!” he grumbled, looking disappointed. “No more Maltesers.” What is it with these guys and Maltesers?

  “Yeah, sorry. Been there, done that,” I said with a too-bad-so-sad look upon my face as I passed him en route to the bathroom.

  He swatted my arse, making me yelp. “What would you like to drink? Want me to order some room service?”

  “Sure! Go ahead. Surprise me.” I waggled my eyebrows and slid shut the bathroom door, leaning against it as the hour just past hit me like a flogger. Oh my freakin’ God! I was just eaten out by Josh the slut Adams. I watched him jerk off then let him blow on my tits. Seriously? What the fucking fuck?

  Shocked, I brought my hand up to cover my mouth and looked at my reflection in the mirror. He said he wants to try, said he wants me. That he would go slow … for me!

  A ginormous smile spread across my face, weighing down the doubt that kept rearing its ugly head. It was a double-edged sword, doubt, preventing what could harm yet also preventing what brought joy. It assisted indecision and somewhat held you at bay. And if we allowed it the upper hand, we’d miss out on so much of what life had to offer. Of course that’s not to say we should flip caution the bird … throw it to the wind. But allowing it to restrict the taking of chances. That was a grave mistake. A mistake I did not want to make.

  Go with the flow, Cori. See where it takes you. You’re stronger than what you think.

  Inhaling deeply then letting it all out, I grabbed my hairclip and fastened my hair into a high, messy bun. As I was securing the ensemble to my head, Josh’s cum gleamed on my chest. My cheeks flamed at the memory, and how I was so keen to be his human blow target. It was not something I’d normally do, let alone volunteer so eagerly for. Cum was just … messy! Either way, I liked how his cum looked on me, and was almost sad when I grabbed a tissue and wiped it off.

  Almost.

  Picking up the teeny bottle of bubble bath and smelling the scent—Coconut Milk and Honey—I smiled and poured the contents into the bath while turning on the water. I loved hotel toiletries and, admittedly, had been collecting them since Albury. Yeah, I had a problem.

  Sloshing the water and making as many bubbles as possible, my ears pricked when I heard a knock at the front door. Voices ensued, but they were muffled over the sound of the water pouring from the tap. Must be room service.

  Minutes later, the bath was full and covered like a sky full of bubbly clouds. It made me smile. I was a sucker for a good bubble bath, and could pretty much live in one if it weren’t for wrinkly skin and the absence of food and a toilet.

  Bracing myself on the white-tiled bathroom wall, I toed the water to test the temperature.

  Glorious.

  I moaned with delight and lowered myself in just as Josh opened the door and entered, carrying a bottle of wine, two glasses, and a tray of what looked like mini desserts.

  “What are those?” I asked, excitedly eyeing off the assorted tarts, slices and cakes. “Oh my God! Is that a mini crème brûlée?”

  “Yup.” Josh was once again wearing his jeans, his chest, cum-free, which was a good thing, if only for the hotel staff member who’d delivered the food—poor buggers didn’t get paid enough to see things like that. Regardless, I was now ready for him to become naked again.

  “Hurry up. The water’s perfect,” I said, scooping up a handful of bubbles and blowing them at him. My blowing breath was, surprisingly, quite impressive, and some of the bubbles found their way on to his cheek and nose. My eyes bugged, and I burst out in laughter. “Oops sorry.”

  Using his shoulder—because his hands were occupied with the tray—Josh wiped his face, the flaring of his eyes evidence of pending retribution. Uh-oh.

  He placed the tray down on the shelf by the bath, stripped off his pants and climbed into the tub, sitting opposite me and draping his arms over the sides, all calm and casual.

  I bit my lip. What was he up to?

  “Come here,” he said, his tone one not to be argued with.

  I argued, of course.

  “Uh-uh.” I shook my head.

  “You want this crème brûlée?” he asked, picking it up off the plate and placing it at the tip of his open and ready mouth.

  I glared. He wouldn’t.

  Josh took a bite. He would!

  “Okay, okay.” Crawling forward, I straddled his lap and snatched the delightful dessert, popping it into my mouth and savouring the creamy toffee taste. “Best taste ever!”

  “You’re wrong.”

  “Am not.”

  He sat upright and wrapped his arms around me, placing one hand on the back of my head and one between my shoulders. Josh kissed me hard and long while holding me tight before pulling away. He then relaxed against the porcelain of the bath once again. “That’s the best taste ever.”

  I rolled my eyes. Lies.

  “You’re just trying to butter me up for bath sex,” I said, licking my fingers. There was movement down below between my legs, his cock backing up my insinuation with the hardening against my sex. It felt divine. “See? Even he thinks so.”

  Josh took my hand and stuck my finger in his mouth, taking over my cat-like self-grooming. “He does. He has a mind of his own. Always has.”

  “That could be a problem, you know,” I stated, the truth behind my words all of a sudden serious.

  “The only problem it’ll be is in moments like now, when he’s so close he can touch it, smell it, taste it. Right now, he wants nothi
ng more than to enter you, get to know you just that little bit better.”

  I bit my lip and uncontrollably ground my pussy on his erection.

  “Corinne!” he warned, eyes hooded, hands tensed. “Best you stop doing that if slow is really what you want.”

  God, I don’t know. If slow really is what I want then I wouldn’t be in the bath, on top of him, and performing a wet-hump like a bitch on heat.

  I searched his lust-filled cocoa eyes. “You hurt me, I’m gone. And not in the way you think.”

  I watched him process my words for a split second before he leaned forward and kissed my lips. He never said anything—never promised he wouldn’t hurt me. I guess I could take that two ways. One: he’s not a liar and, therefore, can’t promise it. Or two: his kiss was meant to confirm that he wouldn’t hurt me, to reiterate that my faith in him was truly warranted. Either way, the kiss was fucking sublime, so much so that I slipped my hand between us and guided the tip of his cock to the opening of my pussy.

  “You clean?” I asked, pausing.

  “I’m in the bath. I’d say so.”

  “Josh!”

  “Yes, sweetheart, I’m as clean as they come.”

  My eyebrow placed her hand on her hip. Yes, they can do this from time to time.

  “You on the pill?” he asked, his eyebrow doing the same.

  Damn eyebrows.

  “Yes.”

  “Then we’re good to go.” Josh braced one hand on the edge of the bath and snaked the other underneath my arm where it settled on the back of my neck. Fingers gently bit into my skin when he drove into me, forcing a cry of shocked pleasure to leave my mouth. Oh sweet God. He was hard, long and … deep. Oh, so deep—his length almost painful.

  Almost.

  “You all right?” he asked, his words grated with pleasure.

  “Yup.” My voice was strangled and, not wanting him to think his cock was causing me any discomfort, I masked my strain of the adjustment to his everything with humour. “Loch Ness called and said they want their fucking monster back, by the way. Jesus, Josh!”

  He laughed and caressed my neck. “Slow, remember? You’re in control.”