Chapter Three Hundred and Twenty One
He took her hand in his and guided her finger into his mouth, then let his tongue caress it, lingering and tasting long enough to make her panties wet.
Monica stared at him, the man knew how to work over a finger. And if he knew how to work her there… Monica slid her finger from his mouth, then caught the look of confusion in his eyes, and she flashed a smile.
"Thanks," she whispered.
"For cleaning your finger off?" he asked
"Yeah."
"Tastes good," he said. "The stuffing, I mean."
There was a pause, not exactly an awkward one.
Monica suddenly wanted a better feel for his lips. When he kissed, did he use his tongue as well as he did when licking a finger? She wanted to know. She looked at his mouth and tried to imagine kissing him.
It was an easy fantasy to conjure.
She decided that on their date, if they ever went on one, she would satisfy her curiosity.
"What's wrong?" Tom asked.
"Um, nothing." She produced a fake-sounding laugh.