Cake & Cunnilingus Day

Steve had the cake iced and ready, vanilla buttercream thick as sin on the plate. He set it down and glanced up. The second he caught sight of Maddy the cake stopped mattering. All he smelled was the wet heat between her legs, that sweet-salt pull that always dragged his tongue straight down. No greeting. No fork. He shoved her back on the counter, dragged her panties aside, and buried his mouth where it belonged. Cake could melt. He licked in long, slow strokes, flicked over the swollen nub, sucked until she dripped onto his chin. Every moan from her sounded better than frosting on his fingers. He took his time, greedy, relentless, wanting every pulse, every shake, the slick flood that left him hungry for one more taste.