I leaned in, my face buried in her soaking heat, and let my tongue do the work that had made me a rising icon. I wasn't just being thorough; I was being surgical. I found that sensitive, swollen nub and began to work it with a relentless, flickering rhythm, my tongue flat and firm one second, then sharp and insistent the next.
"Oh god... Druski... Druski!" she screamed, her fingers tangling in my hair and pulling my head closer, as if she were trying to merge her body with mine.
I ignored her pleas for mercy and increased the pressure, my fingers reaching up to find her entrance, sliding two deep into her tight, slick walls to mimic the friction she'd spent months watching on her office monitors. The combination was too much for her.
