Patrick grinned down at me, his eyes full of fire and smoldering lust. "That's fine," he said, taking my hand in his lightly and laying it next to me. “I’m sure we can find something I can tear off another time?”
"Deal," I said with a light giggle. It was sexy, feeling myself under his eyes. I've had lovers look at me before, in so many different ways. I've had ones that looked at me like I was a piece of meat. They never got a second shot. I've had ones that looked like someone on the beginning of a great adventure. I've had lovers who even looked at me like I was some sort of divine being, which is actually a lot creepier and less sexy than it sounds.
Patrick looked at me instead with warmth, love, affection, admiration, and yes, a big heaping measure of desire thrown in. He took in all of me as I pulled my heels up on the bed, butterflying my knees so that he could look at everything. "I bought this just for you," I said, my nipples already aching and pushing against the silk of the top just from the kiss and our bodies touching. "I don't know anything else I could give you that means as much."
"It's all I ever want," Patrick said, reaching out with a finger to trace the swell of my breasts against the silk. "The imperfect, beautiful, crazy you."
I'd never been called imperfect and crazy at the same time and had it feel like such a turn-on. "So I take it you like it?”
"Should I show you?" he asked me, reaching for his shirt. I nodded, smiling as he peeled his shirt over his head. His work with Sophie and Mark for the previous four months had paid off. He was in good shape before, but now he was ripped. My heart hammered in my chest as he pushed his pants the rest of the way down, his cock bouncing as it cleared the waistband of his shorts. "As you can see, you have quite the effect."
"I can appreciate that," I said, reaching out with a foot to fondle him with my toes. I'm not a foot fetishist, but it was fun to trace his cock with my toes. "How about you get some oil from the dresser?"
"You prepared well," he teased, going over and getting the oil. "Hmmm, odorless and hypoallergenic. High quality stuff."
"Only the best for the sexiest man I know," I teased, squeezing some into my hands. I let it warm for a little bit before I massaged it into his cock, looking up expectantly at him as he closed his eyes. "If you need to come, go ahead. I know we've been waiting for so long, I'm not planning on stopping until the sun comes up or we both are fulfilled."
"Tabby....."
I knew what I was doing, but I wanted it so much. I knew that while Patrick had masturbated, we both had over the past months, it was nothing like the feeling of when we made love. It's kind of like eating at a multi-star restaurant, and eating your home cooking. You can have chicken both ways, but let's face it, eating at the restaurant is so much better sometimes.
I couldn't believe he lasted as long as he did. I stroked and pumped his cock in my hands, occasionally leaning forward to lick the head, but not too much. The massage oil may have been hypoallergenic, but it wasn't tasteless, a thing to remember for the next time. Still, when his hips started twitching under my hands, I knew he was close. I'd have let him cover my face, I know a lot of guys like that, but the angle wasn't quite right for his pleasure. Instead, I pointed him in between my breasts, into the deep cleavage created by the silk, and let him go. He came in what looked and felt like torrents, splattering all over my upper chest with seven strong spurts.
"My, what a strong cock you have," I teased, looking up at him. "I'm so messy, I need to clean up real fast,” I said, scurrying off to the bathroom to quickly wash up.
As soon as I walked out of the bathroom door, Patrick grabbed me into an embrace and carried me to the bed. He kissed down my neck and to my breasts, sucking and nipping at the tender spots near my pulse points that had my hips trying to lift off the bed if he hadn't been pinning my legs. Instead, my hands stroked through his hair and across his upper back as our eyes met. I wasn’t sure how he’d react given that he’d literally just came there minutes beforehand, even though I did just wash myself. But it didn’t seem to phase him. ”You are the perfect man," I whispered as he kept kissing. "Never, never doubt that."
"Not perfect, but maybe together we can make perfect," he replied, finding the edge of my top and pausing. "Do you want it on or off?"
"Off please," I replied, scooting back and arching my lower back. He pulled the top off, dragging the silk over my skin so that my nipples were erotically tortured under the slow progress of the slick fabric. I was left in just my panties, which were already soaked with my anticipation of what was to come.