The pain dimmed. My arousal did too, but that was okay. I was only vaguely aware of him continuing to work my body from behind.
I went somewhere else in my mind. I’d stay that way all night.
At least that’s what usually happened. Not this time. Instead I felt light strokes on my hair, my arms, my back. His cock pulsed hot against my thigh, but he didn’t try to put it inside me, not in any of the places it would almost fit. His hands on me didn’t even feel sexual. He petted me, and I arched into his caress.
“Why did you stop?” I meant it to come out demanding, but instead I sounded weak. I hated sounding weak, especially about sex. He may be the one with the cock and the fists, but I called the shots. I had to.
“Allie, shhh. It’s okay.” He was trying to soothe me, and it was working. He turned me back over and began to kiss me, still murmuring words against my lips. “I’ll give it to you. Don’t worry. Relax.” More words than he’d spoken all night.
I was lost, my emotions all jumbled up from my arousal and my high and subsequent low, at the mercy of this stranger.
What’s happening to me? I needed to get back to something I knew. I wanted him to fuck me, to be inside me, to center me. I whimpered, hoping he’d understand.
“Shhh.” He arranged my arms and legs so that they were splayed open on the bed and then kissed his way down my stomach. I shifted restlessly, knowing what he planned to do.
I didn’t want to say no, exactly, but I couldn’t look forward to it. That would probably have sounded weird to some people, that I would have rather gone down on a guy than have him go down on me.
Giving head was a no-brainer for me. I loved cocks, the way they tasted and felt in my mouth. And just the invasion of it, the submission. It was a pretty gross thing to do when I thought about it. Maybe that’s why women didn’t like blowjobs, but they didn’t understand about the power.
Colin, however, settled down between my open legs like he planned to stay. I felt too self-conscious to say anything at all, especially while he was focused on such an intimate place. I couldn’t help but tense up.
He kissed the inside of my thigh, his fingers trailing the path of his mouth. He switched to the other thigh, and only when my hips tilted up slightly did he move closer to my center. He licked through my folds, the soft contact startling. His fingers played there too, but he didn’t ram his fingers inside me or press my clit. He just licked and suckled and dipped his tongue inside to lap at the wetness pooling there.
It was almost like he wasn’t trying to get me to come. In my experience a guy would aim for the good parts and try to get me off as fast as possible, if he even bothered. But Colin licked me like he had all the time in the world. He wasn’t speeding up or pushing me on.
The room was silent except for the wet sounds from his mouth on me. The pressure of having to perform an orgasm eased with his leisurely pace. He didn’t seem to be expecting me to come now, so it was okay that I didn’t. I relaxed into the pleasure, luxuriating in this new sort of worship. God, was this why women loved getting oral sex?
Liquid released from inside me and slid out onto his tongue. He moaned. He actually moaned like…I don’t know, like it tasted good. As if the taste of me had turned him on. Damn, that turned me on right back.
For all that I liked giving head, I’d never thought a man could really want to do it to me. He wouldn’t like the taste or his tongue would get tired or he’d get bored, but Colin didn’t seem to be thinking any of those things. The slow, languid way he licked me again and again spoke of someone who was enjoying himself.
And then, without me having to fake it, my hips rocked in a thrusting motion. He hadn’t sped up, but the sensations of his mouth and his own appreciation of the act propelled me toward orgasm. I didn’t want it to end.
Colin read my body’s pleas and moved his mouth up to my clit. He sucked and slid his finger inside me, using the rhythm of my hips as a guide. So damned good. I couldn’t help the moans that came out of my mouth. I’d heard the phrase “I’d die if he stopped,” and I’d never understood it before now. I wouldn’t have died if he’d stopped, but I just might have cried.
I’d had sex lots of times, but I’d never had a lover so in tune with what my body wanted. It was a conversation, one my mind was barely aware of, but my body knew instinctively.
He played me like he already knew me. He didn’t tease me, not withholding my climax or any of that tantric shit, for which I might have had to kill him. But neither did he rush me toward climax. It was as if his entire purpose had narrowed to drawing out my moans.