Taster her

“I think I know what’s your choice”, said Claire. “You want both, am I right babe…?”

“Hmmm”… murmured John.

In that moment the air in the bedroom was thick—humid from sex, heavy with the scent of sweat and desire.

Claire sat at the edge of the bed, legs parted, robe loose around her arms, offering herself without shame. She looked down at John, who knelt at her feet, his hands trembling slightly as he waited for permission to move.

Her voice was soft, but unmistakably commanding.

“Then, come here,” she whispered.

John shuffled forward on his knees, heart pounding in his chest. The room was so quiet he could hear the faint wetness between her thighs every time she shifted slightly. His eyes flickered up to her face—flushed, glowing—and then down to the mess glistening between her legs.

Claire reached out and cupped his chin, tilting his face up to hers.

“I want you to see what’s inside me,” she murmured, running two fingers along her slick folds, gathering a glistening mix of her arousal and Jason’s lingering seed. She brought her fingers up, slowly dragging them across John’s lower lip, smearing it there.

“Open,” she ordered gently.

John parted his lips, and Claire slid her fingers into his mouth. He closed his eyes as the taste hit him—salty, musky, unfamiliar but laced with the undeniable sweetness of Claire’s body.

“Good boy,” Claire whispered, stroking his hair. “You’re going to worship me now. Slowly. Completely.”

John let out a low whimper against her fingers. He nodded, dazed.

She smiled warmly, brushing a thumb along his cheek.

“Start at my knees,” she said. “And work your way up.”

John leaned in, pressing a reverent kiss to the inside of her knee. His lips were soft, almost trembling. He kissed again, just above the first, and again higher still, each kiss more **** than the last.

Claire leaned back slightly on her hands, watching him work.

“Slow,” she reminded him. “Feel every inch of me.”

Behind them, Laila stood quietly against the wall, watching, her eyes dark with amusement and approval. She said nothing. She didn’t need to.

John kissed up Claire’s thigh, tasting the salt of her sweat, the softness of her skin. His cage ached painfully as he crawled closer, intoxicated by the scent of her—the raw, primal smell of sex and satisfaction.

Claire’s legs spread a little wider for him.

When he reached the top of her thigh, just inches from her center, she grabbed a fistful of his hair and held him there.

“Look at me,” she said, voice low and firm.

John lifted his eyes to meet hers.

Her gaze was soft—but fierce underneath. A queen on her throne.

“I want you to taste all of me,” she whispered. “Every drop. Every part Jason left inside.”

John whimpered, overwhelmed, and nuzzled closer. He pressed a kiss to her inner thigh first, reverent. Then another, right beside her folds. He could smell the thick, creamy wetness there, a potent mixture that made his head spin.

Claire loosened her grip slightly.

“Go on, baby,” she breathed. “Taste your wife.”

John’s tongue darted out tentatively, running a slow line along her swollen lips.

Claire gasped quietly, a soft intake of breath that made John feel like he’d been blessed.

“Good,” she whispered. “Don’t be shy. Open me.”

John used his tongue and lips to part her gently, revealing her slick pinkness. He dragged his tongue along her inner folds, gathering every trace of slickness he could find. The taste was overwhelming—salty, musky, sweet. It was Claire. It was Jason.

It was the new reality.

Claire moaned softly and rocked her hips forward, encouraging him.

“Deeper,” she urged. “I want to feel you.”

John obeyed. He pushed his tongue inside her, tasting the slick mixture, feeling her walls flutter around him. She was still stretched, still dripping, and he savored it like a starving man.

Claire’s fingers twisted in his hair again, guiding his movements.

“Slow circles with your tongue, just like that… mmm, yes…”

He licked and licked, savoring her, kissing every inch of her flushed, wet core. He nuzzled her, pressed his mouth wide against her, drinking her in.

Claire moaned louder, her thighs tightening around his head briefly.

“Oh fuck… you’re so good at this,” she gasped. “Maybe you’ve finally found what you’re best at.”

John whimpered against her, arousal and humiliation mixing into something that made his cock throb uselessly inside the cage.

“Look at me while you taste me,” Claire demanded again.

John lifted his gaze, his mouth still buried against her, his eyes glassy with emotion.

Claire cupped his cheeks in both hands, holding his face close to her core.

“You feel it?” she whispered. “You taste what he gave me?”

John nodded, his nose brushing against her swollen clit.

“Tell me you love it,” she whispered.

“I… I love it,” he choked out against her flesh.

Claire smiled warmly.

“Good boy,” she said. “Keep going.”

John redoubled his efforts, lapping at her with long, slow strokes, then short flicks against her clit. Claire’s thighs trembled again. She let out a shaky breath, her chest heaving.

“Fuck, baby…” she whispered, voice thick with pleasure. “You’re gonna make me cum on your tongue.”

John moaned, working harder, swirling his tongue over her clit in slow, devoted circles.

Claire’s hips began to rock against his face, grinding down onto him, taking her pleasure fully.

“Oh god… yes… yes—just like that, don’t stop—”

John’s hands gripped her thighs, steadying himself as she used him.

Claire threw her head back, hair falling wild behind her, a low cry building in her throat.

John felt her body clench around his tongue—and then it hit.

Claire came with a sharp, breathy gasp, thighs trembling, hands fisting tight in his hair.

She didn’t pull him away. She held him there, face buried in her wetness, as she rode out the waves of her orgasm.

Only when she shuddered and finally sagged back onto her elbows did she release his head.

John pulled back, face soaked, lips swollen, chest heaving.

Claire looked down at him, eyes half-lidded, smiling faintly.

“You tasted everything I gave you,” she whispered. “Good boy.”

John knelt there, dizzy, overwhelmed, drunk on her scent and taste.

Claire leaned forward slowly, threading her fingers through his messy hair.

“You’re mine,” she said, voice barely a whisper. “You’re mine forever.”

John nodded, tears threatening at the corners of his eyes.

He belonged to her more than ever now.

And he never wanted to be anywhere else.