She thought it rhetorical, not even a question warranting consideration, not worth asking. Surely he was kidding, no way he was really asking this.
“Can I just eat you? Will you allow me that?”
Are ya kidding me? Seriously?
He tells her he wants nothing more than this: to put his mouth onto and into her, to taste her, to satisfy her, make her come. He says he would ask for nothing else, he just wants to do that, use his mouth to claim her, make her his. He wants her to become unable to refuse him, wants her to be dependent on this, on him, he needs her needing him.
“I want you addicted to me, as I am addicted to you.”
Pretty powerful words. An offer you can’t refuse. Who would want to? Just the question, the request, the statement of how badly he wanted to do this, that was a hook, caught her, drew her in. To be in his presence, knowing what he wanted to do, knowing he wanted to bind her to him with an act so intimate, but that required nothing of her other than to share of herself, just to look at him and know this, overwhelmed her. That was a connection, a bond, in and of itself, that they shared something so private, so sexual, a thought that produced images she couldn’t banish from her mind or her pussy.
He wanted to kneel before her, he said, as if he were in front of an altar, like he was worshipping her, paying homage to her twat, offering up prayers to her pussy.
He promised her satisfaction, told her she would come on him, that he wanted her smell and taste, wanted to take all that she was into his mouth, wanted to swallow her, have her inside him, even if he was never inside her.
He described where he would touch her with his hands, how he would put his mouth on her, how his tongue would slip into the cleft of her, find her clit, swirl inside her and back out. He told her how he would explore her, said he wanted to get to know her pussy better than she knew it herself.
He was asking for permission to do this, he said he would beg, please, just this, he said. Please, please let me eat you, and I will ask nothing more. Come to me, let me feel you come, let me drink this, he asked.
“Well, if you must . . .”