01: Let Me Have A Taste - JJK
Warning : Explicit content, Age Gap, Best friend's mother, Written from Jungkook's pov.
Jungkook is not into older women.
But his best friend's mother is exceptional.
He should feel guilty about it, for having such feelings towards her but he cannot control his heart either. He is already too deep into this shit. He is not proud of himself either, he knows it's wrong and he should probably stop it but every time he decides that, the other day he changes his mind.
According to him, it's not harming anyone other than him. He for sure knows that he will never dare to confess his feelings. Even confessing to God about his feelings seems like a sin to him.
He has been trying, trying since he was 18, the first time he had seen her.
He is 24 now and he definitely knows his feelings are not going anywhere else but is going to stay with him till he dies. And he probably will carry this secret in his heart forever.
Jungkook hates himself, he really does.
“I think I should move out,” Eunwoo says suddenly while they are playing a game after dinner at Eunwoo's home. It is like a daily routine for them after university. And Jungkook usually spends the night there.
His fingers stop at his controller and he blinks, still trying to understand what his best friend just said.
“What?” He asks, now turning his head.
“I think I should move out once my uni finishes.” Eunwoo replies, his face blank as if he has already made his decision and knows what he is actually saying.
Jungkook takes a deep breath, he cannot believe the words his best friend said to him. If he moves out then how the hell he will come here and get the chance to look at her. Jungkook is not greedy, he doesn't want to burden someone with his feelings so he is just satisfied by watching her. But knowing that he won't be able to see her anymore his heart feels heavy, but he cannot tell Eunwoo about this.
He knows his best friend will not understand his feelings. He will probably hate Jungkook for having thoughts like that for his mother.
“But why?” Jungkook wants to know the reason.
“Because I feel like I am being an obstacle,” Eunwoo says without any emotion.
“Obstacle? What are you trying to say?”
“it's my Mom Jungkook” Jungkook's heart felt like it would burst out of his chest.
“Did she say something to you?”
“No” Eunwoo shakes his head in denial “but I can feel it, she's lonely and it's me who is stopping her from finding happiness. She won't tell me but I know. She has spent her life raising me and now I want her to live her own life with someone who will love and take care of her”.
Jungkook has frozen. While he knows that eunwoo cares for his mother,but the actual thought of her finding someone else bothers him. For long he is able to stay sane knowing she has no one by her side.
But not anymore.
Jungkook has not been there for three weeks, three fucking weeks. Only he knows how he is holding himself. But the moment Eunwoo requests him for a sleepover he couldn't say no so here he is again, sitting in the dining room beside eunwoo, silently eating his food.
“So, have you found an apartment yet?” Eunwoo's mother asks and Jungkook cannot help but steal a glance at her. No matter how many times he looks at her he cannot stop looking.
“Not yet,” Eunwoo replies.
“Eunwoo-ya, you don't have to move out, you know. This house is big enough for the two of us and without you I will be lonely” She says, her voice laces with pain as she looks at her son.
“Then date someone” Eunwoo casually says while Jungkook coughs.
“Are you okay? Here, drink this?” She passes him a glass of water.
Jungkook wants to curse at eunwoo.
“There you go again, how many times I need to tell you that I don't want to date someone” She sighs, probably tired of this conversation.
“But mom, you have your whole life ahead. And I am an adult now so it's time you live your life without thinking about me for once.” Eunwoo says while eating his food “besides, if you start dating then I might not move out” Eunwoo knows this trick is definitely going to work on his mother since she loves him to death.
“Dating? At this age?” She sighs “who's going to even like me?”
Me, I like you. Jungkook stares at her as if she has said a terrible joke.
“Come on mom, if you don't want me to live just go on a date or I myself will match you with someone” Eunwoo says as a matter of fact and stands up from his seat. “and I am not even kidding” With that he went upstairs towards his room.
Jungkook cannot believe his friend. How come he is this stubborn?
He looks at her silently, wanting to know if she will go on a date with someone that's not him.
He's delusional, and he knows.
He is afraid to confess but he just can't let her date someone else without confessing his feelings.
And he will do it.
Eunwoo's mother stands at the kitchen sink, her hands submerged in soapy water, diligently washing the dishes from their dinner. The sound of running water fills the air as she hums softly to herself, oblivious to the footsteps approaching behind her.
Jungkook had lingered in the kitchen after helping clear the table, using the pretense of tidying up as an excuse to steal moments of secret glances at her. He hesitates for a moment, his heart fluttering in anticipation and trepidation at the opportunity alone with her.
His gaze is fixed on her figure, the way she moves gracefully, and the way her slender fingers glide through the water. Unable to resist the pull, he steps closer, breaking the silence.
“Do you need some help?” He tries to keep his voice nonchalant, though his heart races in his chest.
Startle, she looked up, surprised to see him standing there. She manages a small smile, her eyes holding a hint of warmth. “Oh, I didn't see you there. Sure, if you don't mind.”
As Jungkook positions himself beside her, their proximity feels more intimate than ever before. The scent of dish soap fills the air, mingling with the subtle scent of her perfume. He can feel the heat radiating from her, the subtle brush of their arms as they move around the sink area.
With a nervous smile, he takes a plate from her and starts to rinse it off under the water. His hands tremble slightly, betraying his inner turmoil.
Silence hangs heavily in the kitchen as they work side by side, the sound of water filling the void. Every now and then, their hands accidentally touch under the running water, creating a strange tension between them.
Jungkook's mind races with thoughts, his heart pounding in his chest. Being this close to her only intensifies his feelings, his fingers growing more clumsy with each passing moment. Despite the mundane task at hand, the atmosphere feels charged with an electric energy that neither of them acknowledges.
"Do you think Eunwoo is going to find a match for you?" Jungkook asks.
Her eyes widened, as surprise washed over her face, not expecting his question. She turns her head, taking a moment to collect herself before answering.
"I suppose he’s just worried," she says softly, her voice betraying a hint of nervousness. She tries to keep her focus on the task at hand, her hands moving at a slow pace.
He nods, his gaze remaining fixed on her profile, and he has the strange urge to reach out and brush a piece of hair from her face that's been loosened from her bun.
He fights the impulse, clenching his fist underneath the bubbles, his knuckles turning white. The urge to reach out and touch her is almost overwhelming, but he knows he can't risk exposing his secret feelings.
Instead, he forces himself to keep washing the dishes, using the soap suds as a shield to hide his trembling hands. He chooses his next words carefully, his voice low and tentative.
“Do you… want him to find you a match?”
There is a moment of hesitation, her hands pausing in the water as she seems to contemplate the question. For a second, she looks lost in thought, her face betraying an array of emotions.
Finally, she turns to him, her eyes meeting his gaze. Her voice is steady, yet there is a hint of vulnerability in her tone.
"No,” she replies, shaking her head slightly. “I don’t think I’m ready to start dating right now.”
His heart nearly stops as he takes in her answer, her words sinking in. He blinks, his brain trying to process the information, but all he can focus on is the fact that she's not ready to date anyone.
Despite his better judgment, a spark of hope ignites in his chest, making his heart race. He musters up the courage to ask her another question, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Is there any reason for that?”
She takes a deep breath, her gaze dropping back to the dish she’s washing, her thumb scrubbing at a stubborn stain. The air between them feels heavy, like there is more left unsaid.
When she speaks, her words are measured, her voice almost fragile. “Let’s just say, I haven’t had the best luck with men.”
His expression softens the moment he hears her words, his heart aching for the pain she’s been through. He wants to ask more, wants to understand her better, but he pushes the questions back down, not wanting to overstep his boundaries.
Instead, he offers a sympathetic smile, trying to convey his understanding. "I'm sorry to hear that. I'm sure the right man will come along some day.”
Jungkook is awake.
He is thinking about so many things at once.
He thinks about his feelings for Eunwoo's mother, the desire to be with her conflicting with the knowledge that it is wrong. He thinks about the conversation they had earlier, her vulnerability and her reluctance to find a match.
The memories of their encounter in the kitchen are still fresh in his mind, the heat of her body, the brush of her fingers, the way she avoided his gaze. It was a delicate dance, a careful balance they walked on.
He runs his hands across his face, wishing he could just shut his brain off. But his feelings for her won't let him, they refuse to be silenced.
Eunwoo has fallen asleep a long time ago but he cannot sleep. With a frustrated sigh he sits up, running his hair through his hair.
He quietly slips out of bed, careful not to wake Eunwoo. He pulls a hoodie over his head and steps out of the room.
The hallway is dark, only a few slivers of moonlight filtering in from the windows. He pads down the stairs, trying not to make any noise that might attract attention.
He's desperate for any distraction, anything that can take his mind off the one thought that keeps him awake.
He enters the kitchen, the familiar space now bathed in shadows. The sight of the sink, where he had been standing next to Eunwoo's mother less than an hour ago, only serves to remind him of the events that transpired earlier.
He leans against the counter, letting out a shaky breath. He can almost feel her presence in the room, the way her touch had set his heart racing.
He takes a deep breath, trying to ground himself in the present and not get lost in the memories. The clock on the wall ticks loudly, marking the passing seconds with a constant, monotonous beat.
Despite his efforts, his thoughts keep returning to her, the sound of her voice ringing in his ears. He closes his eyes, his mind replaying their conversation in the kitchen over and over again.
His mind drifts back to her face, her soft features illuminated by the yellow kitchen light. He remembers the way she avoided his gaze, her eyes darting away whenever he looked at her. He remembers the tension in the air, the subtle signs that she might feel something similar to what he's feeling.
He opens his eyes again, staring at the kitchen counter, his mind clouded with an overwhelming mix of desire and longing.
His mind drifts to the brief moments of physical contact between them, the accidental brush of their hands, the way she briefly touched his arm. The memories spark a wave of heat across his body, his heart rate increasing.
He clenches his fists, hating himself for feeling this way. He knows it's wrong, but he can't make the feelings go away.
As he turns to head back to the room, he halts in his tracks as a sound drifts from somewhere in the house. It's subtle, barely audible, but it's enough to catch his attention.
His heart leaps to his throat, his mind racing with questions. Who could be up at this hour? Is it Eunwoo? Or is it…?
He swallows hard, his mind torn between curiosity and caution. Against his better judgment, he slowly makes his way to the source of the noise, treading lightly to avoid making any sound.
As he gets closer, the noise becomes clearer. It sounds like soft, muffled weeping.
He pauses outside the door, his heart sinking as he realizes where the noise is coming from. He hesitates, knowing he shouldn't invade her privacy, but the sound of her crying has him rooted on the spot.
With a shaky hand, he slowly pushes open the door, peering inside.
The sight that greets him makes his heart ache. There in the dark room, he sees her sitting on the edge of the bed, her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs.
He is frozen in place, watching from the doorway, unsure what to do. He doesn't want to intrude, but he can't bear seeing her in pain.
She startles, her head whipping up towards the sound of his voice. For a moment, they are both frozen, their eyes locked, surprise etched on her face.
"I-I'm fine," she stammers, quickly wiping away the tears with the back of her hand. She tries to put on a brave face, but the red rims around her eyes betray her.
“May I come in?” He asks gently.
She hesitates for a moment, her eyes flickering with uncertainty. But the exhaustion and the need for comfort seem to outweigh her reservations.
"Yes," she whispers, her voice barely audible. "Please.”
He steps into the room, closing the door softly behind him. As he approaches, he can feel the tension in the air, the weight of her sorrow that he wishes he could ease.
He takes a seat beside her on the bed, the mattress shifting under his weight. He doesn't say anything at first, allowing her to compose herself.
They sit in silence for a while, the only sound in the room is her ragged breathing as she tries to suppress her tears. He wants to reach out and comfort her, to wrap his arms around her and tell her it will all be alright, but he knows it's not his place.
Finally, he speaks, his voice gentle. "Do you want to talk about it?”
She takes a deep, shaky breath, her gaze fixed on the floor. "It's nothing new," she mutters, her voice so soft he almost doesn't hear her. "Just memories I can't shake off no matter how hard I try."
He can hear the pain in her words, the deep wound that hasn't healed. He wants to ask her about it, wants to understand what she's been through, but he holds back.
He reaches out, placing a gentle hand on her back, trying to offer some comfort. She tenses for a moment, but then relaxes under his touch, his presence offering her a small measure of peace.
"You don't have to carry the weight of your memories alone," he murmurs, his voice low and soothing.
She looks up at him, her eyes glistening with fresh tears. There is a vulnerability there that he's never seen before, a rawness in her expression that pulls at his heartstrings.
He can't help but want to protect her, to keep her from feeling any more pain. "You can talk to me," he whispers, his hand rubbing gentle circles on her back. "I'm here.”
She opens her mouth as if to say something, but the words seem to catch in her throat. She looks away, biting her lip, the effort of holding back proving to be too much.
He can practically see the walls she's been trying to build come crashing down, her defenses crumbling under the weight of her heartache. He moves his hand to her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. "It's okay," he says softly. "Let it out.”
The simple act of his touch, of his words, seem to break the dam. She lets out a choked sob, her body trembling as the tears flow freely now. She buries her face in her hands again, as if ashamed of her weakness.
He scoots closer, his arm wrapping around her shoulder, pulling her against his chest. He holds her as she cries, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her back, offering quiet support.
She clings to him, her body shaking with the force of her sobs. He holds her tight, his heart breaking as he hears the pain in her cries, the raw emotion that's been bottled up for so long.
"Shhh," he whispers, his lips close to her ear. "It's okay. Let it out.”
She buries her face in his chest, her fists clutching at the fabric of his shirt. He can feel her tears soaking through the fabric, her body racked with sobs.
He continues to hold her, rocking her gently, whispering reassurances into her ear. "It's okay. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere.”
After what feels like an eternity, her sobs slowly subside. She draws in a shaky breath, her body still trembling in his arms. She doesn't move, her face still buried against his chest.
He continues to hold her, his hand gently stroking her hair. He can feel her body relax, the tension slowly easing out of her as she starts to regain her composure.
She pulls back slightly, looking up at him with puffy eyes. Her cheeks are tear-stained, her hair messy from burying her face in his chest. Despite the raw vulnerability, there is a weary relief in her gaze.
He smiles softly, his thumb wiping away a stray tear. "Feeling better?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.
She nods weakly, her shoulders slumping. "A little," she whispers, her voice hoarse from crying. She looks away, her gaze focusing on her now tear-soaked shirt. "I must look like a mess.”
He shakes his head, lifting her chin up so she meets his gaze. "You're beautiful," he says sincerely, his thumb gently stroking her cheek. "Even with puffy eyes and blotchy cheeks.”
A hint of color creeps into her cheeks at his words. She tries to look away, but he doesn't let her. "It's true," he insists, his thumb continuing its gentle ministrations. "You're beautiful, even when you cry.”
She averts her gaze again, trying to hide her flustered reaction, but he can see the effect his words are having on her. "Stop it," she murmurs, her voice a little breathless. "I'm a mess right now. My hair's a disaster, and I'm blotchy and swollen.”
He chuckles softly at her protests, his hand gently combing through her hair, his fingers brushing away the tangles. "Messy hair, blotchy cheeks, swollen eyes," he repeats with a teasing smile. "Doesn't change the fact that you're the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on.”
"What?" Her eyes widened.
He's caught off-guard by her reaction, surprised that she's so taken aback by his words. "You heard me," he responds, his voice still soft and gentle. "I think you're beautiful, and I don't say that lightly.”
"It's late, you should go back to sleep" She says, avoiding his eyes.
He nods, taking the cue that she's had enough emotional upheaval for one night. Reluctantly, he starts to untangle himself from her, his hand lingering on her shoulder for a moment before dropping away.
She watches him as he prepares to leave, her eyes following him. He can see a mix of emotions playing across her face, a strange mixture of vulnerability and longing.
He takes a step towards the door, his hand on the knob, but he hesitates. It feels wrong leaving her like this, alone in the darkened room. He turns back to her, his gaze locking with hers.
"Are you sure you'll be alright?" he asks, his concern etched on his face. He can't help but worry about her, especially after the raw display of emotion he's just witnessed.
"Yes" She nods her head.
It's been one week since that incident. Jungkook's mind has been preoccupied, his thoughts often drifting back to that night. The memory of holding her, of seeing her vulnerable and raw, has left an indelible mark on his mind. It's hard to ignore the way his heart races whenever he sees her during the day, the flutter of his pulse that he tries to suppress. The desire to reach out to her, to check on her, is constantly on the tip of his tongue, but he's not sure if it's welcome or if it's just his own selfishness.
Jungkook is seated at the bar, nursing a drink in his hand. The club is dimly lit, the air thick with smoke and the thumping bass of the music. He's not really there to drink or socialize, just to distract himself from the constant stream of thoughts about her.
He takes a sip of his drink, the alcohol burning his throat. His gaze drifts to the dance floor, where couples writhe and sway to the music. It's a stark contrast from the quiet intimacy he shared with her that night.
His breath hitches as he sees her across the room. She's dancing, her body moving gracefully to the music, her eyes closed. She looks carefree, relaxed, and utterly beautiful. He can't take his eyes off her.
Is he dreaming?
He stares at her, captivated by her every move. The way she sways her hips, the subtle flick of her hair as she tosses her head back, the way her lips part as she moves to the beat. His fingers itch to touch her, his heart races with a mix of desire and jealousy as he watches men dance near her.
Jungkook bristles as he sees the man's hand reach out to touch her. He clenches his fist, resisting the urge to storm over and rip the man away from her. Instead, he watches as she gracefully sidesteps the man's touch, her expression remaining relaxed and unperturbed.
This time, the man's hand does make contact, his fingers grazing her arm. Jungkook's eyes darken as he sees the unwanted touch, his knuckles going white from the force of his clenched fist.
He strides through the crowd, his gaze fixed on the man who had dared to touch her. As he approaches them, he sees the man's hand still lingering on her arm, a smug smirk on his face. Without a word, Jungkook pushes between them, effectively separating her from the man.
His arm encircles her waist, pulling her close against him. He can feel her body tense for a moment, surprise flashing in her eyes as she looks up at him. But she doesn't pull away, her own hand moving to rest lightly on his chest.
"What are you doing here?" She asks.
"I could ask you the same thing," he responds, his voice low and hoarse. He's acutely aware of the feel of her body against his, the way her hand now rests comfortably on his chest, right above his rapidly beating heart.
She looks up at him, her eyes searching his. There's a hint of surprise there, mingled with something else - something he's not sure he dares to name. He tightens his grip on her waist, pulling her even closer, his body responding to her proximity in a way that is becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.
"What are you doing, Jungkook?"
He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, his touch lingering on her skin. "What does it look like?" he murmurs, his gaze roaming over her face. He can feel the heat radiating from her body, the soft press of her against him driving him insane.
"You should not, this is wrong" She tries to separate herself from him.
He holds her tighter, refusing to let her pull away. His grip is firm, his fingers digging into the softness of her hip. "Why?" he asks, his voice low and intense.
"Because I'm your friend's mother and this is wrong”.
He lets out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head. "Don't use that as an excuse," he mutters, his grip on her hip tightening. "It's not just about that, and you know it." His body is pressed against hers now, his face inches away from hers, his breath hot on her skin.
"You are drunk" She says and walks away from there.
He follows her, determination etched on his face. He grabs her wrist, spinning her around to face him. "I'm not drunk," he protests, his grip on her wrist firm but gentle. "At least not enough to not know what I'm doing.”
He led her into an empty side room, closing the door behind him. The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the small cracks under the door. Without a word, he pushed her back against the wall, his body pinning hers in place.
"I'm done hiding my feelings for you" He says, gently. His body is pressed against hers, his hand cradling her face tenderly. His thumb gently strokes her cheek, his gaze holding hers captive. "I don't want to keep pretending anymore," he whispers, his voice so low it sounds like a confession. "I want you, and I'm tired of fighting it.”
"Why?" She asks, not understanding why her heart feels heavy suddenly.
He leans forward, his lips skimming the edge of her jawline, his breath hot against her skin. "Because being with you feels right," he murmurs, his voice husky. "Because every time I look at you, my heart races. Because I can't imagine my life without you in it.”
"I know it's wrong to feel this way, but I can't control my heart. Every time you smile at me, my stomach flips. Watching you move around the kitchen, seeing how caring you are with your son - it makes me admire you more than I should."
“But this is wrong, you are still young and I'm your friend's mother”.
"I know it's wrong, I really do. But age doesn't define how I feel. I'm not a kid anymore, I'm a grown man with feelings for a wonderful woman. And that woman happens to be my best friend's mom.”
He pulls back slightly, his eyes searching her face for any sign of reciprocation. Her expression is unreadable, her eyes averted from his gaze. "Say something," he prompts, his thumb tracing the contour of her jawline. "Anything.”
She finally looks up at him, her gaze meeting his. There is a mix of emotions etched on her face - confusion, desire, and something else he can't quite put his finger on. She opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out, her voice failing her.
“At least give me a chance to prove my love” The desperation is clear in his voice.
She still doesn't say anything, her silence hanging heavy in the air. He takes a step closer, his body pressing against hers, his hands moving to encircle her waist. "Please," he whispers, his voice raw with emotion. "Just give me a chance to show you how much I care about you."
His heart leaps at the sound of her agreement, a surge of hope coursing through him. "You won't regret it," he promises, his grip on her tightening. He leans in, his lips hovering just above hers, his breath intermingling with hers.
He bridges the gap between their lips, his mouth claiming hers in a deep, possessive kiss. He pours all his pent-up frustration and desire into that kiss, his fingers tangling in her hair, his body pressing her against the wall with insistence.
He devours her, his tongue delving into her mouth, his hands roaming over her body. She responds in kind, her own hands gripping his shoulders, her body arching to meet his. The intensity of their kiss is almost frenzied, years of suppressed longing unleashed in a torrent of sensation.
He pulls away slightly, his lips moving to her jawline, her neck. His tongue traces a path down her throat, his teeth nipping at her skin, marking her as his own. His hands slide under her shirt, his fingers grazing her stomach, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake.
He lifts her up, her legs wrapping instinctively around his waist. He pins her against the wall, his body grinding against hers, the heat between them almost unbearable. His lips find hers again, his kisses now more desperate, more demanding.
He breaks away from her lips, his voice ragged with desire. "I've wanted you for so long," he murmurs against her skin, his mouth moving down to her collarbone. His hands grip her thighs, his fingers digging into her flesh, his touch leaving no doubt as to his intentions.
"And now that I have you," he continues, his words punctuated by hot, open-mouthed kisses against her skin. "I'm never letting go." His body is pressed against hers, the heat of their bodies melding together, his lips now trailing down her chest.
His hands slide under her shirt, his fingers gliding up her stomach, his touch sending shivers of pleasure through her body. He tugs at the fabric, his knuckles brushing against the lace of her bra, his eyes locked on hers. "Can I?" he asks, his voice a low, rough whisper.
She responds with a nod, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her body trembling under the onslaught of sensations. He takes her nod as the consent it is and removes her shirt, his gaze taking in every inch of her exposed skin. He pauses, drinking her in, his eyes dark with want. "Beautiful," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire.
He kisses her again, his lips returning to her throat, nipping and sucking at her skin. His hands move to the clasp of her bra, his fingers deftly unfastening it. He pulls it away, his gaze roaming over the newly exposed flesh. "So perfect," he whispers, his body pressing harder against hers, his hands caressing her bare back.
He lifts her once more, carrying her to a couch that sits against the opposite wall. He lays her down on the cushions, his body covering hers, their lips still locked in a passionate kiss. His hands roam over her body, his touch both gentle and possessive, his desire palpable.
He breaks away from her mouth, his lips moving to her breasts, his tongue swirling around her nipple, his teeth grazing her skin. He worships her body with his touch, his mouth leaving a trail of wet kisses down her stomach, his hands stroking her thighs. "You're so sexy," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire.
She moans, her body arching beneath his, her fingers digging into the fabric of the couch. His touch is driving her mad, his mouth sending jolts of pleasure through her body. She wraps her legs around his waist, pulling him closer, desperate for more contact.
He kisses her again, his mouth slanting over hers, his tongue delving deep into her throat. His hands move to the zip of her jeans, his fingers quickly undoing it, his body trembling with need. He breaks away from her lips, his breathing ragged, his eyes dark and intense. "I need you," he whispers, his voice a rough growl.
He yanks off her jeans, his hands roaming over the newly exposed skin of her legs, his touch almost reverent. His fingers brush over the lace of her panties, the fabric damp with desire. He groans, his body responding to the intimate revelation. "You're so wet," he whispers, his voice hoarse. "Let me have a taste”
He pushes her legs apart, his body settling between them, his lips trailing kisses up her inner thighs, his tongue leaving a wet trail in its wake. His hands grip her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh, his touch leaving no doubt as to his intentions. "I've longed to touch you like this for so long," he murmurs, his voice a rough, possessive growl.
He nips at her skin, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh, his fingers rubbing against the damp fabric of her panties, his touch sending jolts of pleasure through her body. She gasps, her fingers gripping the couch as she arches into his touch, his name a breathless whisper on her lips. "I want you," she pants, and he grins, his eyes flashing with satisfaction. "You've got me," he whispers, his voice low and husky.
His hand slides into her panties, fingers trembling as they find her wet folds. He lets out a soft gasp, exploring her warmth with gentle touches. "God, it's so wet... and warm..." He finds her clit, circling it softly with his fingertip.
He watches her reaction closely, his voice barely a whisper. "Is this okay? Does it feel good?" He gently rubs her clit in slow circles, his fingers becoming more confident as he sees her respond. He slips one finger inside her, testing the waters.
He adds another finger, slowly moving them in and out, his thumb continuing to rub her clit. He watches her intently, his breath coming in short gasps.
He pulls his fingers out slowly, bringing them up to his mouth and sucking them clean, making her watch. He then pushes her thighs apart, diving down. His tongue finds her clit, licking softly, exploratively.
He wraps his arms around her thighs to keep them open, his face buried between them. He licks and sucks, trying to mimic the movements of his fingers earlier.
He increases the pressure and speed, tongue flickering against her clit as his fingers slide in and out again. The sounds of her wetness fill the room, making him even more turned on. His other hand moves up to squeeze her breast, pinching the nipple gently. "You taste so good…”
He pulls away, leaving her wanting for more as he takes off his clothes.
He kicks off his boxers, revealing his hardened cock. He kneels back between her thighs, positioning himself at her entrance.
He takes a deep breath and thrusts his hips forward. He starts to thrust in and out.
He grins, picking up the pace. He leans down to kiss her deeply, his tongue dancing with hers as he continues to thrust in and out. He reaches a hand between her thighs to play with her clit, "You feel so fucking good,”
“fuck” She moans, trying not to lose her sanity “feels good after a long time”.
He flips her over suddenly, pulling her hips back up as he enters her from behind. His hands grip hee waist tightly as he pounds into her. "Fuck... I can go deeper like this…”
Her breasts bounce with each thrust. He watches them hungrily. He spreads her legs wider, going even deeper. "Damn..." He mutters, his pace quickening. He spreads her ass cheeks wider, watching himself disappear inside her.
Lost in lust, he reaches around to frantically rub her clit as he fucks her hard from behind. His cock throbs inside her, getting closer to climax. "Shit, I'm gonna cum..." He leans over her back, his breath ragged in her ear.
Without stopping, he pushes her face down into the pillow to muffle her moans as he continues to pound into her. Suddenly, he pushes even deeper and holds still, his entire body trembling as he fills her with his hot cum. "Fuck, fuck, fuck…”
He stays buried inside her, his dick still jerking as it shoots out the last of his cum. Slowly, he pulls out with a wet sound. He watches as his cum drips out of her and onto the couch. "Holy fuck…”
He's breathing heavily, still trying to process what he has done. He is sure as fuck that he can no longer stay away from her now that he got a taste of her.
THE END
