L. Marie Adeline- S.E.C.R.E.T

work earnestly.
“What are you doing!”
“Making dessert. I’m a pastry chef in real life, if you can believe it. Let’s see … one
more …” And with that, he drew a line of whipped cream from my belly button all the
way down. Then he grabbed the container with the chocolate icing and gently dolloped
some of that on me. He reached over and took a single maraschino cherry and placed it
over my belly button. I tried to stop giggling but couldn’t. It was all cold and ticklish
and also incredibly hot. He gave his work a long look, then bent and closed his mouth
over my belly button, took in the cherry and licked the cream clean o. Then he
smeared the icing across my breasts, while his mouth made its eager descent. His sticky
hands soon followed, crossing my torso, my stomach, then parting my legs. His tongue
was hot and lush. At rst he just lapped, not touching me directly, and I felt I would die
if he didn’t. Then, finally, he closed his mouth around me, moving it around and around,
soft, hot, sticky, sending me into a narcotic haze. I felt his ngers tickle around the
outside of me, their rmness complementing his soft, wet licks as he cleaned all the
cream o me. I was aching for it like never before. He pulled me so quickly to the brink
that I had to grasp the sides of the table to stabilize myself.
Then he stopped.
“Why are you stopping?” I gasped, breathless. I looked down at his hungry eyes, the
back of his hand wiping the cream off his cheek.
“Cassie, could you feel what I was doing with my tongue?”
Um, yeah. I could definitely feel what he was doing. It was making me crazy.
“Yes,” I said as calmly as I could.
“I want you to do that with your fingers. In front of me. For me.”
“You want me to what?” I felt drunk as I looked at him, his face still adorably smeared
with whipped cream.
“I want to watch you touch yourself,” he said.
“But … I don’t know how, really. I suck at it. I can get started, but then I feel … I
don’t know … and with you watching, I—”
“Give me your hand.”
I reluctantly placed my hand in his. He held it rmly, guiding it to where I was hot
and wet. He isolated my index nger. He placed it gently on me, and using his mouth
there, he made me newly wet. His hand guided my nger in circles, his tongue darting
around me. Oh God, it was incredible.
“I don’t know what tastes better, you or the cream,” he said.
Once I found the rhythm, he let go of my hand and my own ngers continued, while
he gently moved his mouth over me. His hands grabbed the insides of my thighs,
pressing them down into the table. He stopped for a second and watched me. I was on
the very edge of ecstasy. I ung my head back, trying to take it all in, these sensations.
He watched as I touched myself. Then his mouth soon joined my fingers.
“You feel that? You like that?” he said, between feverish licks.
“Oh yeah,” I said, feeling every pulse and matching it with my own. I wasn’t sure
where the orgasm was building, but it was coming from someplace new, someplace