Jan. Week 3: Friday Evening--Jonathan goes down on Leah... (Luck:-20 Suspicion: -10)

She wiped her mouth, crawled up his chest, and let him wrap her in his arms. She could feel his heartbeat thrumming against her cheek, steady and real and so much gentler than the wild, cruel drumbeat that had powered her day. For the first time in hours, Leah allowed herself to relax.

She tried not to think about what she’d done, or what she’d have to do again next week, or the gnawing hunger at her core that no amount of chardonnay or showering or Jonathan’s love could quite satisfy. For now, it was enough to be held, to be cherished, to be the only woman in the world for the man who loved her blind.

Leah slipped some black panties on even while Jonathan was recovering from the high of having his cock sucked. She crawled into bed next to him.

But Jonathan, ever the overachiever, wasn’t finished with her yet.

“Now its your turn.” he smiled and gave her a kiss on the lips…then on her breast…then her stomach…then between her legs.

For all his dorky charm, Jonathan had always been a generous lover. He hesitated, like a dork, and looked up, a sly grin on his lips.

“It’s not fair, you know,” he said, voice muffled by her skin. “You look so damn good after a shower, I can’t even think straight.”

She blushed, still self-conscious despite everything, but opened her legs wider, inviting him in. He moved her panties to the side and began to pleasure her. His tongue was gentle at first—tentative, almost tender—then grew more insistent, more greedy, as he licked and sucked at her clit with the same reverence he reserved for anything precious and rare.

Leah arched her back, **** to chase the pleasure, to drown out all thought except the urgent, spiraling heat rising in her belly. She threaded her fingers through his hair and guided him, gasping his name with each new wave of sensation. He never let up, never faltered, just kept eating her out like it was his life’s purpose, his holy calling.

Her orgasm came out of nowhere—a sharp, electric jolt that ripped through her and left her trembling, half-laughing, half-crying, barely able to form words. Jonathan crawled up beside her, pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, and pulled her close.

“Best Friday night ever,” he whispered, grinning like an idiot.

She wanted to believe him. She wanted so badly to believe she deserved this happiness, this love, this moment of uncomplicated pleasure.