Read The Key for Free Online Page B

hot, his breath more so, and I gazed down to watch him in the muted light as he dragged a path upwards. He passed over my clit and I shivered, convulsed with the delightful shock from what that pass had made happen. A strong sweep of sensation captured my clit, hardening it, had me wishing it would grow stronger, would never end, taking me wherever it had a mind. With sure strokes he licked on, swirling, laving, and I tipped my head back, unable to watch anymore—the sight was too erotic, too much.
    Blindly, I reached out to touch his head, to bury my hands in his springy hair and hold him in place, fighting the urge to press myself into his face, to ride that tongue until I screamed out my passion. He used broader, flatter strokes, seeming to taste every part of my sex. He groaned, muttered, “Ah, fuck!”, the words not only hot to hear but warming my folds too. I was excited beyond belief, the experience of being with a man after so long wreaking havoc with my self-control. I drew back, my pelvis jerking, and crawled back down his body, sitting on his erection. The only thing I could do to stave off coming.
    “That was good,” I said, my Frenchness broken and ragged.
    I put my hands on the knot of his tie, fingers shaking, and undid it, lowering my head as I raised the end of it to my mouth. I slid it between my teeth, bit down then pulled, the tie snaking out from under his collar then breaking free. I took it from my mouth, reached back for his hands, brought them to rest on his belly, then bound his wrists with the tie, all while looking into his eyes. I had never done anything remotely like this before, but here, now, with him, it seemed the right thing to do.
    With his hands held captive, I moved down his body a little more, popped open the button of his trousers then eased down the zip. Drew his boxers’ waistband to rest beneath his cock, which sprang free, bobbed a few times, then came to rest against the curly thatch surrounding his root. As though I did this every day of the week, I moved backwards a bit more, then leant forward until my head was level with his cock. I could smell him, could almost taste him, and licked my lips in readiness. My heart decided to play up on me again, doing its mad, faltering jig, and I had to take a few long and steady breaths to calm myself.
    “Suck it,” he said, voice as hoarse as mine had been.
    Oh, God. What is he doing to me?
    I gave him a half-lidded glance then took him between my lips, one long, slow glide downwards that filled my mouth to capacity. He gasped, let out a low moan—raw and oh so carnal—and I knew I had him just as he’d had me. On the brink. Ready to come.
    “Oh, Jesus fuck, Chantal…”
    His words served to have me vowing to make this a blow job I’d be proud of. I sucked up, swirled my tongue around his head, then dived south again, repeating the motions until a sweet yet sour taste flooded my tongue.
    “Stop,” he said. “If you don’t stop I’m going to fucking…”
    I let him pop out of my mouth, gave him a lick from root to tip, flicking over his slit. Took him in hand to slowly massage him while I fondled his balls with the other. The devil got inside me then, daring me to do something new and exciting. I went to argue with myself that no, I couldn’t do this, but that devil wasn’t having any of it. I manoeuvred so I was between his legs. He widened them in silent invitation. Had he read Chantal’s naughty, slutty little mind? What I was about to attempt I had never done before, had never even contemplated…
    I took my hand away from his balls. He gasped as a protest—one that I ignored. I stuck one finger into my mouth, getting it good and wet, sucking it as if it were his cock and I couldn’t get enough of it. Looked at him to make sure he understood where I was about to go. He challenged me with his return stare— I dare you to do it… Go on, I dare you…
    I lowered my hand to the ridge between his balls and his arse,