“Want this?” I ask, holding the finger that was inside me two inches above Randy’s lips.

“Give it,” he growls.

“Mmm, on second thought—” I snatch it away, but Randy’s fast. He grabs for my hand, so I react instinctively and jam it in my own mouth—not my whole hand, just the finger.

“Fucking Christ, Lily.” He squeezes my ass, and I have to hold on to the headboard so I don’t lose my balance again. There’s no warm-up. He flat-tongues my clit, then seals his mouth around it, sucking hard.

I cry out because the sensation is everything I expect it to be. When I’m not at risk of falling over anymore, I lean back and thread my fingers through Randy’s hair. His nose is mashed against my pelvis. I’m not sure how he’s managing to breathe, considering the way he’s devouring me, but he hasn’t passed out from lack of oxygen yet, so I’ll put the worry on hold.

After the first orgasm, he detaches from my clit and holds up a finger. “That’s one.” And just like earlier today, there’s no reprieve. He reattaches and starts sucking again. The second orgasm comes fast and hard. “Two.”

He changes it up after that, lapping at me with slow strokes that might not have the same effect if I hadn’t already come twice. I shake my head as a third orgasm washes over me and notice the door to the bathroom is open. From here I have an amazing view of me straddling Randy’s face in the mirror. He’s holding my ass, fingers digging in as he rocks me over his mouth. His cock is hard, pushing against his swim shorts and more than half exposed now, just waiting for me to ride it. Which I’m ready to do, but Randy’s still eating, and when he has an orgasm goal, he won’t stop until he reaches it.

“You getting bored, luscious?” He nibbles at my non-face lips.

“What? No.” I glance back at him.

“Whatcha looking at?”

“You eating me out in the bathroom mirror.”

“Oh yeah?” And suddenly I’m airborne.

I land on my back on the bed. Randy checks out my previous view, then decides the bathroom mirror is too far away and the one over the dresser provides a much better, much closer view of events.

He kicks off his swim shorts, his erection jutting out. At first I don’t quite get what his plan is as he lays me on my side and checks the view in the mirror. He positions himself behind me, kisses my hip, and trails a finger along the outside of my thigh. Then he lifts my leg and ducks under, his gaze on the mirror across the room as he kisses a trail down the inside of my thigh. I giggle at the tickle of his beard, and moan when he licks me again, soft and slow.

“You should use your fingers this time,” I suggest.

“Should I now?”

“Uh-huh,” I half moan as he circles my clit with the tip of his tongue.

“My tongue isn’t good enough for you?”

“I love your tongue. It’s amazing. I’m just saying, fingers are great, too.” Randy rarely adds digits to the eating equation. I used to think it was because he finds the multitasking distracting. That has nothing to do with it.

He hums against me, and I feel his thumbs or fingers near where I asked for them, but he doesn’t follow through. Instead he goes back to devouring me. He has to hold my hips with both hands to stop me from thrashing around and potentially kicking him in the face. When orgasm number four body-slams me, he shifts so he can run the head of his cock over my hypersensitive clit.

“I should suck cock,” I mumble, making a half-assed attempt to sit up.

Randy snickers. “You can do that later.”

He props my leg up on his shoulder and holds the other one open, observing his actions in the mirror for a few seconds as he continues to rub his tip around and around my clit. He goes lower and circles the Vagina Emporium entrance, but he doesn’t make a move to get in there. Tease.

“How you feeling?” he asks.

“Ready for cock.” It comes out raspy, probably from all my moaning and coming.

“Is that right?”

“Mmm.” I lift my hips, hoping to encourage him to go ahead and give it to me, like I’m sure he wants to.

He taps my clit, causing me to jerk. His grin is downright evil. “How bad do you want it?”

I can’t believe he’s still holding out. Usually after an epic lick-off, Randy doesn’t take any time putting his dick where he wants it, or where I do. “On a scale of one to ten?”

“Sure. That works.”

I should be sated after four orgasms. But I’m not, and I think I’ve figured out why: often when Randy eats me out, he uses only tongue. And while I may come like a machine, the lack of fingering makes them somehow unsatisfying. It’s like my vagina is aware there’s something missing. And Randy must have figured it out, too. So I have to assume he’s done it on purpose—and then I remember him saying I’d be begging to be full of him. Damn it. He’s so not winning this game of his. He should already feel like he’s won with the four orgasms.

I bite my lip and go for the innocent look. “Mmm, about a five.”

His eyes narrow. “Five?”

“Okay, how about a six?”

He pushes my leg off his shoulder and sits back on his heels. He’s holding his cock in his fist, thumb sweeping back and forth over the tip. “Maybe I should take this to the bathroom and finish myself off in there if you’re that uninterested.” He sounds frighteningly serious, and he’s got one foot on the floor.

“What? No.” I scramble to my knees and wrap my arms around his neck. His erection pokes my stomach. “One hundred. On a scale of one to ten, I’m at one hundred.”

“I don’t know if I believe you.” He’s still fisting his cock; his knuckles rub my pelvis.

I press my chest against his. “I thought we were playing.”

“So now that you think I’m gonna take away your fun, you decide you want me?”

I shake my head.

“No? You don’t want me?”

“I need you that bad.”

This gets a smile out of him. My man needs to be needed these days. I don’t have a problem with that, as long as I understand where the insecurity is coming from. Which I think I do.

I pull him back on the bed, and he settles between my legs. I don’t rush him this time. Instead, I let him tease me, and eventually I do exactly what he said I would: I beg to have him inside me.