Jealousy

Yvonne's voice cracked when she asked. 'What number is that?' I looked up. 'Just someone I met.' She kept pressing, cheeks burning. 'Is she pretty? Does she fuck better than me? Will she lick your cunt the way I do right now?' Before I answered she dropped to her knees, slid her face between my thighs and pressed her tongue flat against me, licking with short, hungry strokes. The pen slid from my fingers. She worked faster, desperate, sucking my clit like proof that no one else could take her place. Her tongue curled, dipped, and I grabbed the back of her head, holding her right there.