So much for taking the edge off.
“Specifically, what is the very next thing you want to do? What do you want to move and where?”
I licked my lips. “My first instinct is to spread your legs and dive in.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “How about, instead, sliding your fingertips lightly up my thighs? Or tracing them in circles behind my knees?”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because it feels good and builds tension. It prolongs the act.”
“Prolongs the act,” I repeated, turning this concept around in my mind and considering it from all angles.
“Yes. For a woman, if you want her to come before you do, you need to find that delicate balance between prolonging the act and providing fulfillment. You can’t provide fulfillment if you haven’t built tension. It would be like trying to force-feed me before I’m hungry.”
“Hmm . . . you want me to make you hungry.”
“Exactly.”
My eyes drifted to where her bathrobe opened. I stared at the creamy expanse of skin. An idea gripped me.
I lifted my fingers from her legs and untied the robe. I slid my hands inside, finding her body hot and smooth. She shivered.
“Are you cold?”
“No.” The word was hushed.
I traced a single finger from her bellybutton, between the valley of her breasts to her collarbone. I hooked it around the robe’s lapel and peeled it away, finding the distracting freckle on her collarbone.
Grasping her arm, I gently tugged her forward and licked the spot. She shivered again.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
“I’ve wanted to do that for quite some time.”
“What?”
“This freckle. It taunts me.” I used my teeth, careful to nip instead of bite.
I placed my other hand on her knee. Then, as per her suggestion, lightly skimmed my fingertips higher, opening her legs, and drawing barely there circles on the interior skin of her thighs.
Her hips shifted. I moved my hand away. She whimpered.
“Tell me how to touch you, lovely Lucy.” I lowered my mouth to her pink nipple and licked it.
She gasped. “Don’t stop.”
Her little noises drove me mad. I pressed my hips against the mattress, trying to find relief for the stiffy in my pants.
“Don’t stop what?”
She hesitated, then said softly, “Don’t stop touching me.”
“Where?”
“Your fingers, on my . . . rub your thumb over my clit.”
Despite the pain in my groin I grinned, enjoying how shy she sounded as she coached me. “Gladly. Gently?”
“Yes. At first.”
I did as instructed, parting her and rubbing the pad of my thumb over the fleshy bud between her legs, and an odd thing happened.
Her sounds changed. And I listened to them.
I tried biting her breast and she grunted. So I tried swirling my tongue around her nipple and was rewarded with a breathy groan.
Trailing my mouth down her body, placing the light kisses she’d enjoyed during our first time together over her ribs, I pushed her back to the bed and spread her legs farther apart.
I blew on her.
She panted, moaning tightly, and I nearly came in my pants.
Fuck.
Wanting to improvise and improve rather than just replicate last night, I swirled my tongue around her clit in much the same way I’d just done to her nipple.
“Oh God.” Her hands lifted and threaded into my hair, holding me in place.
I backed off, using just the tip of my tongue and spreading her with my thumbs. I waited to see how she would respond, remembering her words about building the hunger.
She seemed to enjoy it at first, sighing lightly and moving her hips. After a time she grunted restlessly. So I sucked her, because I could tell she wanted more. And also because I wanted to. Because I loved the feel of her flesh against my tongue and lips, the taste of her arousal, the slick sweetness of her. Yet I kept the pressure gentle, because Lucy seemed to need gentle.
“Oh God, oh God, oh God—fuck!”
I lifted my eyes to hers, found her watching me, felt the first tremors of her release against my tongue as she threw her head back and moaned. Actually, it was more of a howl, and it was sexy as fuck.
Her nails were painful as they dug into my scalp, but fuck. It felt so fucking good because I recognized it as a mindless response. She was beyond thought. Because of me. Of what I was doing. Before her tremors subsided, I realized I hadn’t placed any fingers inside her. I slipped two into her perfect warmth and was immediately rewarded with a strangled cry, her thighs tightening as her hips bucked off the bed.
“Sean! Oh fuck! Sean . . .” Thinking she liked that.
Her pulsing quickened, renewed, intensified, and I groaned against her delicious suppleness. Because she was coming again. And it was perfect.
Chapter Ten
@LucyFitz Would you rather live the rest of your life with a human head and a horse’s body, or a horse’s head and a human body?