Deliciously Sinful

by Lilli Feisty

  He picked up the orange and began peeling the outer layer from the piece of fruit.

  “Sherry brought these back from a farm down south. There’s nothing as good as a fresh, sweet orange sprinkled with a little cinnamon and tequila.”

  “Do you do anything without tequila?”

  “Hush.”

  The word was soft. He’d dragged out the “sh” sound of the word and, for some reason, it was calming. But it was also a command, and that made her body thrum with erotic anticipation.

  Maybe that was it. He had the ability to calm her, to own her, in just one word. She had no choice but to let go. So she did.

  He was almost done peeling the orange. He broke it into two sections and rested the fruit on a small plate. Then he took a small glass of tequila from the table and splashed a bit of the liquor onto one of the orange pieces. Next he picked up a jar of cinnamon and sprinkled the glistening orange with a spattering of the red spice.

  He picked up the orange half. “I’m going to do this to you later.”

  “W-what?”

  “I’m going to treat your pussy like this piece of fruit.” His tongue darted out, and he licked a drop of juice off the tip of the orange. “I’m going to spread you open, and I’m going to lick your delectable flesh. I’m going to lap up every last ounce of your juice.”

  Her pussy was pounding with lust. She could almost feel his face between her legs: licking, sucking, tugging…

  “Yes, Nick. Do that to me. I want to feel your mouth on my pussy.”

  “I will. First, taste.”

  She knew the routine by now. Holding still, she watched as he brought the piece of fruit to her mouth. It was a large chunk, so when she opened her mouth she couldn’t take the entire thing inside.

  She bit down. Immediately she tasted the combination of tart tequila and sweet orange. And the touch of cinnamon tied the flavors together, heightening the contrasting taste and texture.

  “Deeper.” He pushed the orange against her mouth. She didn’t know why, but it was erotic. The orange filled her mouth. The juice ran down her throat, coated her lips, and the skin all around her mouth. As she swallowed, she could feel the sticky juice on her chin. She felt a drop of fluid drip down onto her chest.

  He continued to feed her until every last bit of the orange was gone. By the time she swallowed the last of it, her skin was burning with desire. Her thighs trembled and her pussy throbbed.

  Her face was sticky with orange juice; she could feel it. She moved her arm in an attempt to wipe herself off, but Nick stopped her. Holding her arms at her sides, he moved her toward him.

  He leaned in. Then his tongue was on her. He licked her lips, her skin. He licked every last drop of orange juice from her face. Her eyes drifted closed, and she tried not to moan aloud.

  As he kissed and licked her, she felt his strong hands on her arms, and she felt his hot breath contrasting against the damp spots on her skin. She felt his energy coursing into her.

  “Such a good girl,” he said. “On your knees, letting me feed you. Lick you. But I bet you’re still thinking about my mouth on your pussy. Are you, Phoebe? Are you thinking about me licking your wet pussy like I just licked that orange juice off your face?”

  “Yes,” she managed. She was out of her head. She couldn’t think about anything else except what he said. What he said he would do to her.

  He unzipped his jeans.

  She licked her lips.

  “First I want to feel my cock in your mouth. I want you to show me what a good girl you are by sucking my cock. Taking me in your mouth like you took that orange. Licking, sucking, swallowing.”

  “I want to suck your cock, Nick. Please.”

  He stroked her head. “Such a good girl. I like it when you beg. I love hearing my Phoebe plead to suck my dick.”

  My Phoebe. The words sent a shudder through her. “Please, Nick. I want to taste you.”

  “You will, baby. You will.” He tugged off his jeans and boxers and tossed them aside. Her gaze fell on his erection. His dick was long and strong, just like him, and Phoebe had to swallow because it made her mouth water.

  He sliced open another orange and picked up half of it. Her eyes widened as she watched him squeeze it right over his cock. Orange liquid coated his skin, dripping down the shaft in tempting, lickable drops.

  He set the orange aside. Then he took her head in his hand and coaxed her toward his shimmering flesh.

  “Take me in your mouth, Phoebe. I want you to lick every last drop of juice off my cock.”

  “Mmm,” was all she could manage. All she wanted was to do what he said. Sucking the orange off him made her sex throb with want, her nipples pebble with the need to be touched. And pleasing him turned her on even more.

  She licked the tip of him. Running her tongue around the head of his dick, she tasted his essence, his skin, and sweet juice from the orange.

  It was a heady combination. At that moment, on her knees on a kitchen floor, sucking orange juice off Nick’s erection, she needed nothing else.

  Her lust was so strong that it made her entire body tremble. She took him deeper, wanting him as far in her mouth as she could, until he hit the back of her throat.

  She felt his thighs clench as she swallowed. “Such a good girl,” he said. His words sent a new wave of desire through her. By then, her pussy was as juicy as any orange, and she could feel herself dripping into her panties.

  She was aching for him. And that ache somehow fed her. Fueled her. She could barely believe how deep she could take him in. He pulled out and entered again, playing with her mouth. She felt the entirety of his orange-flavored dick filling her mouth. She felt the tip of him on the roof of her mouth, sliding farther and farther and farther.

  Again he hit the back of her throat.

  His hands still on her head, he sank back into the chair. “Fuck, Phoebe. Fuck yeah, girl.”

  She wanted to please him. Pleasing him made her satisfied. It heightened her own pleasure. So she swallowed. He moaned. She opened her throat until she was afraid she might gag, but he held her firmly. Just far enough. As far as she could take.

  “Oh, yeah, baby. Just like that. Suck my cock like a good girl.”

  She ran the tip of her tongue along the outside of his dick, back up to the tip. If it was possible, this time she thought she felt him even deeper than before.

  He stilled. Then he pulled her off him. “Come here.”

  He guided her to her feet. Her legs were quivering. She could barely hold herself up.

  He kissed her. She melted. He held her upright.

  She barely felt him tugging off her shirt, her bra, her skirt, her damp panties.

  Her naked skin was hot. Her entire body felt like there was a fire burning inside her. A fire of need and want and lust.

  She was about to burst into flames.

  “That’s a good girl.” Nick urged her back onto her knees. But this time he followed suit, getting onto the floor in front of her. Then he pushed her back so she was lying on the floor, her legs spread out in front of her.

  He had another orange in his hand. This time he made quick work of peeling it, and he tossed the bits of orange peel onto the floor.

  She closed her eyes. She heard him squeeze the orange and then sticky drops fell on her skin—her breasts, her abdomen, her stomach, her clit.

  “Oh my God, Nick. I need you. I need you so badly…”

  “Shhh.”

  Then he was licking her. Licking orange juice off the tips of her breasts, licking the liquid off her stomach…

  “Yes!”

  Finally, his mouth was on her clit. He parted her legs, opening her wide. His tongue was swirling, nibbling, tugging…

  “Yes, Nick…ohhhh,” she moaned.

  “Feel good, baby?”

  “Yes. Hell, yes.”

  He paused. Before she knew what he was doing, he was touching her lips with the piece of orange.

  After running the orange secti
on across her lips, he pushed it into her mouth. “Chew.”

  He climbed back down her body and buried his face between her legs. She couldn’t cry out or moan or scream, not with the orange in her mouth. So she sucked it, drew every last piece of juice out of that piece of fruit. Tasted, sucked, swallowed.

  And felt Nick doing exactly the same thing to her pussy.

  He didn’t stop. He lapped at her as if her very flesh were a delectable piece of fruit. He spread her pussy lips and licked her. Devoured her.

  “Don’t stop, please, Nick…”

  “I got you, baby,” he said, and she felt his breath on her wet sex.

  Up and down. His tongue explored her from her entrance to her clit. Back and forth. He didn’t let up.

  She tossed her head from side to side, not caring about the hard floor beneath her. Nothing mattered except what Nick was doing to her. Making her crazy. Making her cry out for him. Making her beg.

  “Oh, God! Oh my God!” She squirmed and twisted under him, but he held her steady.

  “I need you, Nick. I need to feel you inside me.”

  “Yeah?” he asked, his voice casual. “You need my dick? Fucking you?”

  “Yes! Please…”

  “Beg me for it, baby.”

  “I’m begging you, Nick. Please, please, fuck me now.”

  But he didn’t. Instead he continued the assault on her pussy. But this time, as he swirled his tongue around her clit, she felt his fingers probing at her entrance.

  “Yes, Nick. Do it.”

  “You want to feel my fingers inside you, baby?”

  “I want your dick inside me.”

  He made a “tsk” noise. “Sassy girls have to wait. But I will do this instead.”

  Then she felt his fingers. She didn’t know how many, and she didn’t care.

  “Okay, that’ll do.” She arched beneath him.

  He fucked her with his hand. He fucked her with his mouth. She bucked against his face.

  The climax ripped her apart. All she could do was scream as her entire body convulsed in an orgasm that shattered her into a million pieces.

  Her eyes popped open and she saw the ceiling, but she couldn’t focus on it. Or do anything. She felt paralyzed. The climax had been so intense that she couldn’t move so much as a little finger. She could barely breathe.

  She wondered how he’d done that to her. He’d known exactly what button to push to turn her into a lifeless corpse.

  “Oh, God,” she breathed. “That was…Wow.”

  “Yeah?” he said.

  He’d moved up beside her and was now looking her in the face. His blue eyes were bright, his spiky hair even messier than normal.

  She traced the tattoo across his chest. “Yeah.”

  “Well, I hope you’re not too worn out. Because I fully intend on carrying you to the bedroom and fucking you silly for a good two hours.”

  A fresh wave of desire crashed over her. How could she be aroused when she’d barely recovered from the most intense orgasm of her life?

  And yet she was.

  She gave him a look. “You think you can go for hours?”

  “I know it, love.”

  The word made her heart constrict, and she ignored it. Instead she gave him what he would call a cheeky grin. “Prove it, then, love.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  You’re going to Los Angeles?” Jesse watched her father throw a pair of trousers into a suitcase.

  He looked up. “Why do you sound so shocked?”

  Jesse whipped her skirt around her legs and plopped onto her dad’s big bed. “Um, maybe because you haven’t left Redbolt since”—she put a finger to her temple and pretended to think about it—“I can’t remember when?”

  He continued folding clothes and putting them into the luggage. “Well, Sherry invited me, and I’d like to go.”

  “But what are you going to do there? How long will you be away?”

  Looking at her, her dad sighed heavily. Then he walked over, sat on the bed beside her, and took her hand in his. He looked her in the eye.

  “Dad? What’s going on? You’re freaking me out.”

  “Jesse, I know things have been hard on you since your mother passed.”

  “Well, yeah, but I thought you were doing okay.”

  “I am. But I worry about you.”

  She pushed a dread behind her ear. “Me? Why do you worry about me?”

  “You were young when your mom died. I know it was hard. On all of us.”

  “Yes. But, Dad, what are you trying to say?”

  “You’re eighteen now. A woman.”

  She spoke slowly. “I am aware of that.”

  He ran a hand over his head. “This is hard for me.”

  “Dad, spit it out. What’s up?”

  “I just think it’s time I started living again.”

  She was speechless. “You haven’t been? H-have I done something wrong?”

  “No, honey. Of course not. You’ve done everything right. I just wanted to make sure you felt secure and safe. I wanted to give you stability.”

  “I do feel safe. I do feel secure!”

  “I see that. And I see how strong you are, how good you are at the café. And I know you’re going to be okay.”

  “Of course I am. What are you saying?”

  “I see the woman you’re becoming. Strong and independent. Like your aunt.”

  “I don’t understand. What does this have to do with you going to L.A.?”

  “It’s time to let you go.”

  “Let me go? Go from what?”

  “Me. It’s time I cut the strings, so to speak.”

  “Wait. Are you saying you…you don’t need me?”

  His grip on her hand tightened. “No. I’ll always need you. You’re my sunshine. But I also have a life, and now that you’ve grown up into a wonderful young woman, I’ve realized I can start living it.”

  Her mind was spinning. “So, what are you saying? That you haven’t been living because of me?” She wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry.

  “Of course not, sweetheart. But for so long my main priority has been you. And spending time with Sherry has made me realize I need to start thinking about myself again.”

  “Wow.” She had no idea her father had those kinds of thoughts or feelings.

  “You know, you’ll always be the center of my world. But now that I see you can take care of yourself, I’m going to start doing more things for me. Things that make me—and only me—happy.”

  “I thought you were,” she said in a whisper. Her throat was closing in a painful clench, and she felt tears stinging her eyes.

  Her dad squeezed her hand. “This isn’t coming out right. Honey, I love you.”

  “I know, Dad. I love you, too.”

  “I love you so much; all I’ve wanted was to make sure you knew you were safe after your mom died. That I was never going to leave you.”

  “I know that.”

  “And I’m glad. And I don’t want you—” He squeezed her hand even tighter. “I never want you to think I didn’t enjoy and love every single second we’ve spent together.”

  Through watery eyes, she just looked at him.

  “But now it’s time to start a new chapter.”

  “Because of Sherry.”

  “No. Not because of Sherry. I’ve just been waiting until I knew deep inside that you were independent enough to be safe on your own.”

  “But—”

  “You are. And I also see that somehow, in my attempt to create this safe bubble for you, you’ve taken on the role of caretaker for me.”

  She stared, totally floored that her dad had picked up on how she was feeling. In fact, Jesse was floored because she wasn’t even sure she’d seen it that way herself. She just wanted her dad to be happy.

  As if reading her mind, he said, “I’m happy. It’s taken a long time to move on past the sadness I felt when your mother died, but I’m happy now. And I want to keep going. A
nd I want you to as well.” Now he grabbed both her hands, leaned down a few inches, and looked her right in the eyes. “I want you to be happy. And that means following your dream. Whatever it may be.”

  “But”—she felt tears spill onto her cheeks and she felt silly, like a little girl—“I don’t want you to leave.”

  “I’ll always be there for you. You know that. And this is just a short trip.”

  “I know!” She wiped a tear off her face. “I mean, I know you’re just going for a little while. But…” She didn’t know what to think or feel.

  “I just want us both to live. Actually live. It isn’t because you mean any less to me. You know that, right, Jess?”

  She nodded. For so long she’d been living her life under the assumption that her father depended on her. And, if she understood him correctly, he’d been living the exact same way. She’d been living her whole life around the thought that her father needed her. Here. And now he was saying none of that was true.

  “So,” she said. “This means you’re going to L.A. with Sherry?”

  Her father stood. “Yes. I hope that’s okay with you. We’re going to leave in the morning. There’s a wine conference in Malibu, and I think it would be an amazing experience to go with Sherry.”

  “Of course that’s okay with me.” How strange to have her father asking her approval to go on a trip. Wasn’t it supposed to be the opposite way around? But then, this entire conversation had her feeling as if she were on a roller coaster, the kind where you go upside down and around and everything just drops out from under you.

  “Sherry brought this all out in you?”

  He shook his head. “No. But she did make me remember what I was missing.” He glanced at her. “Life.”

  He kept saying that word, and every time he did images flashed through her mind: recipes she’d tried, courses from Le Cordon Bleu, those red shoes she’d “borrowed” from Sherry. Paris.

  Life.

  Jesse simply stared at her dad as he finished packing. The conversation had left her reeling. And she couldn’t help it. There was one question that was niggling at her, and it wouldn’t go away.

  If your dad can live his own life, why can’t you?