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I Don't Know If I Could Ever Go Without

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“I… I can't ,” Casey whined, her face all scrunched up and flushed pink. She felt the faint layer of sweat cover her body.  Her nerve endings were all confused, shooting off in every direction, not knowing where they were going. She was mostly focused on breathing because oxygen was important...right?

“Yes, you can,” Derek reminded her, pressing his wet lips against the inside of her trembling thigh. He looked so at ease, his strong arms wrapped around her legs, holding her lower half down and open to him like a dessert he wanted to devour.

She was messy and sticky. His warm breath against her sensitive skin felt like temperature play on top of everything else she was going through.

No ,” she groaned, doing her very best to move under him. She was overstimulated. Anyone would be after three rolling orgasms. The man had many talents. His slap shot on the ice. His eye for film. And his mouth for arguing with her...and then apologizing to her, without words.

And it wasn’t just that he was good with his mouth. No. It was also about how much he enjoyed it; that was the real just an ego boost. He loved to whisper little things into her ear at inappropriate times. Like telling her how sweet she tasted the night before while they ate at a family bbq. Or how badly he wanted to dip his tongue into her. Or when he’d beg her to sit on his face while they were grocery shopping. 

(Really, how was she supposed to resist?)

“Are you using your safe word?” he asked gently, his tone shifting, his hold on her legs loosening.

She looked down at him, hoping her eyes could convey a message. But there he was, on his belly, hair a mess, curtsey of her hands. His pink lips were coated in her. She watched him readjust his hips, looking for some sort of friction and relife no doubt. And his eyes... He looked so sad . Like a wounded puppy losing its favorite toy... Except she was his favorite toy.

She flushed as if even possible, trying her best to remember how they had even gotten there, three orgasms deep with no end in sight...on her fancy suede couch. Her poor fucking couch!

It was pretty standard, actually. She should have known. He said something dirty, in a church no less! (Sam’s baby christening of all places.) Something about bending her over a pew and... well, yeah .

She flushed, pink to the tips of her toes. And after the obligatory brunch, they snuck out. Casey’s place was closest, so he ended up in her car. His hand on her bare thigh, inching up her pretty pink dress as she drove.

He had, at some point in their filthy kissing and grinding session on the couch, pulled her matching pink underwear down her leg, stuffing them in his pocket like they belonged to him. And really what the hell was she supposed to wear if Derek stole them all? She might have to think about going commando. He'd love that, wouldn't he?

Casey knew what came after. What always came after. But she wasn’t mad at him predictably. In fact, she enjoyed it. A lot.

Finally, she shook her head down at him. Her bottom lip sucked into her mouth, readying for the torture his tounge would inflict on her.

“Use your words, Princess,” he prompted her. Teasing her like the smug bastard that he was. The thing about Derek’s fascination was that it was a perfect way to shut him up.

“I’m ok,” she breathed out with a nod.

“One more?” he bargained, fingertips easing their way towards her wet swollen center again like he couldn't resist touching her. “Just one, ok?” he asked ever so sweetly Casey could almost forget how much of a pain on the ass he was.

Casey, legs still shaking, could only agree.

His lips pulled into a devious-looking smile. “Be a good girl for me,” he winked before diving in again, his head ducking between her thighs, leaving her with a mess of curls for her to hold on to.

(But it didn't stop a cry from ripping through her when the flat of his tongue ran up her sensitive folds. Again.)