Today, she plunged in and bared her soul, with no guarantee that I felt the same, and without her usual safety net of logic and analysis. And seeing my Devi all reckless and unsettled because of me—then she has to love me. She must. She must feel the same turbulent, all-consuming pull that I do, and that makes me so desperate to thank her, to touch her, to show her exactly how fucking much I love her back.
Since I can’t give her piles of money, I’m determined to worship her body to show her my adoration instead. The moment my lips brush against the soft, neatly trimmed curls just above her clit, she shivers and widens her legs.
I settle in, sliding my arms under her thighs and then curling my hands over the top to keep her legs spread as widely as I want. And then I dive in, running my tongue everywhere and tasting everything and stopping at nothing to make her squirm and whimper. She smells like clean water and my body wash, but when I spread her open even farther and let my tongue trace circles inside her entrance, I taste a sweetness that is hers and hers alone.
She writhes on the bed, her hands reaching for my hair, and it’s one of my favorite things about eating a girl out—maybe my favorite thing—feeling her fingers curl into my hair and pull, feeling her hands on the back of my head while her hips lift to rub her pussy against my face.
In my porno career, I’ve shot a few scenes where I’ve been playfully tied up, but they’ve never been anything but the loosest shadow of submission. But when I’m between a woman’s legs like this, heels digging into my back and hands rough and forcing around my head, I think I understand the appeal. Because while I may be the one on my belly, from my vantage, I’m the one with all the power. I’m looking up over the rise of Devi’s pubic bone and up the slope of her stomach to her face, which is currently scrunched up in abject pleasure, and I’m the one doing that. Maybe her hands are the ones tugging and she’s the one urging—harder, faster, inside, please lick me inside—but it’s my mouth, my tongue, my skills. I’m the one unraveling her, and that makes me feel more powerful than I’ve ever felt with a crop in my hand.
I’m not saying I want to give up the crop, mind you. But this is just as amazing.
I look up at her again, still sucking and licking, and I watch her as I move my hand from under her thigh to find her seam. I stroke everywhere—her ass, her thighs, her entrance—but it’s when I finally slide a finger inside of her that I see her start to truly come apart. This morning, she was coming for Kendi, and now she’s coming for me, and I just think that’s fucking beautiful, like some sort of cunt-licking circle of life, but then I wonder for a minute if she feels a difference between me and Kendi. If not in her cunt, in her heart or her mind—because it’s got to be different, right? When someone you love touches you?
I’ll make it feel different, I vow. I’ll make it so that she has no doubt that I love her, that her body learns ways to respond to me and only to me. I want to own her fantasies, I want her to think of me whenever she closes her eyes on a set. Whenever another actress fucks Devi with her tongue, I want Devi to imagine my mouth, and whenever she’s fucking herself with a dildo, I want it to be my cock she dreams of.
Devi tugs me up over her, and I oblige, wiping my mouth with my arm as I settle back on top of her.
“What is it, Cass?”
Her gaze meets mine, the pupils so dilated that her eyes are pools of black. “I love you,” she whispers, searching my face. “I love you and I wanted to say it again. I wanted to make sure it was still real—you loving me too.”
Her honesty breaks my heart. “Never doubt that for a fucking second. It’s always real.” And I lean down to kiss her and she kisses me back hungrily, licking and sucking her own taste off my mouth, which makes my cock so fucking hard that I can feel it leaving a wet spot against her belly. I love her, and I want to fuck her until she can’t walk. I want to know her soul, and I want to tie her down and own her pussy for days at a time. I want to worship her like a temple slave, and I want to come in her so hard and so often that she’s reminded of me every time she stands up. It’s taking everything I have not to stab my cock into her right now, to keep my mind present when my body and heart are so singularly united in the goal of fusing myself to her.
I’m shuddering with restraint, my muscles literally fighting against themselves, when she whispers, “Please.”
“Are you sure?” I force myself to ask. “Just because we’ve shared things doesn’t mean we have to…” I’m so hard that I can barely breathe and my voice is stuttering and raspy. “We don’t have to today.”
“I meant what I said,” she tells me with those dark eyes. “About needing your touch.” She closes her eyes for a minute. “Show me it’s real,” she begs. “Fuck me like it’s real.”
“Okay,” I say hoarsely. “Gimme a minute.” I reach for my bedside table, where I keep a small glass jar of condoms, but then she stops me.
“No,” she says earnestly. “Bare. I want you bare. I’m on the pill, so it’s okay.”
I look down at her. “Are you sure?” I ask. I’m tested every two weeks, and I know that she is too, but it’s still a big leap of trust. “I know you’re clean, baby girl, and I know you’re on the pill, but it’s a big step, and we’re just getting started. We have lots of time for big steps.”
She shakes her head. “I want it—you. All of you. Nothing between us.”