He drops to his knees without hesitation, grips my thighs, jerks my ass to the edge of the counter, buries his face where it belongs, and I die. I die, right here in a kitchen that doesn’t belong to me, bare ass on the counter, with a hockey player feasting on my pussy. I die over and over, a beautiful, star-filled death as Emmett Brodie thrusts his tongue inside me, flicks at my clit. As he sucks me into his mouth, mutters about knowing I’d taste like this, like his last meal on death row. As his fingers work their way inside me, plunging, curling, demanding. As his thumb finds my clit, and
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