“Don’t think you’re going to have her all to yourself, Bren.” Corbin nudges his brother aside and goes down on his knees in front of me. He leans in to kiss me, picking up where we left off in the kitchen.
I decide then that my favorite Hayes brother is whichever one I’m with at the moment.
Corbin moves at a faster pace then Brendan, his hands sliding up my thighs as we kiss, spreading my legs wider. He tugs my t-shirt off as he moves down my body, and spends some time biting at my nipples through my bra before he continues to his destination.
“I’ve been looking forward to tasting you ever since we first saw you yesterday,” he says.
9
Can I show you?
I might comment on his cockiness if I wasn’t already holding my breath, waiting for the moment he makes contact. He kisses each of my inner thighs, making me wetter than I already was, before he finally licks a path up my center.
“Fuckin’ delicious,” he says, grinning up at me. I don’t recall hearing him swear at the bar, but his dirty mouth is doing things for me. As is his tongue, of course.
He runs that talented tongue through my folds and swirls it over my clit before getting his fingers involved, pushing first one, then two, inside me. He continues to lick me as he pushes in and out of my wet pussy. He flicks over my clit as his fingers curl against a spot inside me and I cry out, intense pleasure radiating throughout my body.
Corbin’s fingers stroke over and over, hitting the same spot again and again, triggering more sensations than I can handle at one time. I cry out and my hips buck, but he holds me steady and applies more pressure with his tongue. I cry out again, and then I’m coming — again — even as I can’t believe it’s happening.
“So good! So good,” I say, unable to form a full sentence.
Corbin keeps licking, and I keep coming for what seems like an impossibly long time. I come down from one peak only to swiftly climb another. It’s not something I believed would ever be possible for me. Finally, I push his head back, my pussy too sensitive to stand any more.
“What was that?” Breathless, I sound like I’ve just run a marathon.
“Your G spot. Guess no one’s ever found it before?” His face is shiny and his grin is proud as he swipes at his chin with the back of his hand. “Glad I could be the one.”
“You’re the first. Guess you can plant your flag in there. First man on the G spot.”
He laughs, his head tipping back, the sound a sexy rumble. “I’ll be planting a stiff pole in there real soon.”
Now it’s my turn to laugh at his cheesy wordplay, but I can’t keep my eyes from seeking out his “pole,” still restrained in his jeans. I know better than to reach for it, because Jonathan, who I’m vaguely aware has been watching from a nearby chair, is coming toward me.
“My turn,” he says.
“I might need a break first,” I say.
“Would you like some water?” Jonathan asks.
“No, I just — I’m a little overwhelmed at the moment. Parts of me … need to rest for a few minutes.”
“No problem,” he says, sitting down on the couch and bringing me onto his lap. I lean back against his chest, surprised at how comfortable it feels being there. The masculine scent of him that surrounds me is nearly enough to make me forget that I need a break.
When he takes my hand in his, I notice the size difference. I don’t have tiny hands, but mine looks very small compared to his. Using his thumb, he begins to massage the fleshy area right above my thumb. It’s not mindless stroking, he very purposefully rubs the area as if he’s looking to relieve tightness.
Even though I’d have sworn my recent orgasms had left me boneless, what Jonathan’s doing feels amazing. He turns my hand over and presses his thumb into my palm and massages the base of each finger.
“That feels so good,” I murmur, sinking more heavily against him.
“Your hands must get tired at your job,” he says. I make another sound of pleasure as he switches to my other hand and begins to give it the same treatment. “How long have you been bartending?”
“Ever since I moved to the island,” I say, melting further into him. “Over ten years ago.”
“That’s a long time. Do you like it?”
“Bartending? Yeah, I do. There’s a nice sense of community here, and I like seeing the familiar faces that come into the bar every week.”
As we talk, he moves on from my hands, sliding out from under me and down the couch, pulling my legs onto his lap. He runs his magical thumbs under my calf muscles, finding more tightness there and soothing it.