Then the mouth

He worked her with a devastating rhythm. His fingers curled inside her while his thumb pressed her clit in wonderful circles. Miranda’s head fell back, and she made a string of pleading sounds. Encounters with Terry had become as routine as balancing the checkbook. She hadn't felt anything like this in years, except in her 'personal time' with the toys she didn't speak of to anyone.

Then he lowered his head.

Her body seized as his tongue touched her pussy. A high whine escaped her, but he didn’t seem to notice. He settled in, his hands splaying on her inner thighs to hold her open. His mouth was hot, wet, and relentless. And it was incredible. Shamefully incredible. The thought pierced through her haze of sensation: He’s done this so many times. It was the work of a connoisseur. Jack knew exactly where to linger, when to apply pressure, when to suck. He didn't have the slightest trouble reading the twitches and gasps of her body, and he was navigating her directly toward a cliff.

The pleasure was rising, and with it came the flotsam of guilt. Rachel's Polaroid's came back to her. Her daughter on her knees, smiling with some boy's thing in her mouth. The utter lack of rational thought had horrified Miranda. Now, spread-eagled on a strange man’s couch, she knew she was just as bad. "Ahh," she whimpered. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to **** the image of Rachel away, to banish the shame and just feel. It was no use. The wet, sucking sound of his mouth on her flesh was the sound of her daughter’s life.

Terry's face, bland and predictable, swam in her vision. The memory of him was paper thin. He couldn't compare to the all-too-real feeling of Jack’s tongue. He belonged to another world, a world of PTA meetings and neighborhood committees. This was not his jurisdiction. Jack added a third finger, and she forgot him completely. The dual sensations of being finger-fucked and licked broke her down. Her moans grew louder, loathing herself as she hoped his neighbors wouldn't hear. She laced her fingers in his thinning hair and let her hips take the lead.

Just as she settled in for her orgasm, he stopped. Her eyes flew open. He was looking up at her, his chin glistening (with her!). He slowly withdrew his soaked fingers from inside her and brought them to her lips. “Taste,” he said.

Where did he get off, telling her to do something like that?