“But we—”
He kisses me, and my resistance doesn’t stand a chance. Some nights, we talk for a while, and maybe go through a little bit of wine, but sometimes we cut right to the chase. This is going to be one of those nights, according to this languid bedroom kiss.
After some long, undefined expanse of time, he draws back and meets my gaze. “I know this has been stressful for you. Fun, yeah, but let’s be real. I know you’ve worried about me, and about your marriage.” He takes my hand and leads me toward the bedroom. “I just want you to know that I appreciate it.”
“I know you do, Michael. I’ve never doubted that for a second.”
“Still.” He pauses. “I think we should finish this conversation in the bedroom.”
It seems like a topic that can easily kill the mood, but I do what I’ve done since the start—follow Michael’s lead. Into his bedroom. Out of our clothes. Into his bed. Into another long, tangled kiss.
Without breaking the kiss, Michael rolls me onto my back. Then, he moves from my lips to my jaw, and continues down my neck. “I’ve told you time and again how much you’ve done for me, and how much it means to me.” Kiss by kiss, he inches down my torso. “Tonight, I want to show you.”
“Show me? How are…”
As he starts down my abs, his eyes flick up to meet mine, and the pieces snap together.
He’s really…
He passes my navel, pausing now and then to flick his tongue across my skin.
Oh my God.
His lips mark a slow, gentle path along the edge of my hipbone.
He is.
He starts at the base of my cock, drawing little circles with the tip of his tongue, and my breath is gone. Just gone. My eyes water, and it’s more than arousal. I can’t even believe what I’m seeing, what I’m feeling—Michael’s going down on me?
He works his way from the base to the head, kissing and teasing. Just like that very first time a lifetime ago, he’s taking his time, working up the confidence while he’s turning me inside out.
He rests a hand on my hip, quite possibly to keep me still, and runs the tip of his tongue along the underside of my cock. And when he reaches the head, I expect him to go back down, but instead—
Holy. Fucking. Hell.
His lips slide down over the head. Before I can catch my breath from that, he runs his tongue around it. Again, back the other way. He doesn’t take me very deep, but that’s just fine by me—what he’s doing is…so…good.
I want so badly to grip his hair, to run my fingers through it, but I don’t know if that’s welcome. Not when it’s taken him so much just to work up the nerve to do this. So I grab the pillow and hold on, forcing myself to stay still even when my hips desperately want to rock in time with his strokes. On the plus side, staying still keeps me from coming too fast—thank God, because this really is our first time all over again, and I want to savor it even more than I did then.
There’s no putting off an orgasm indefinitely, though. I grip the pillow tighter and try to stay still. Try to hold back. Not a chance.
“K-keep doing that,” I slur. “And you’ll make me come.” I’m half-expecting him to continue anyway, like he did the first time, but he stops. He lifts his head and pushes himself onto his arms.
“I do want to make you come,” he breathes as he moves up over me, “but I want to fuck you.” He shudders, pressing his rock hard cock against me. “I want to be inside you when you come.”
Oh fuck yes.
I moisten my dry lips. “How?”
“My favorite position, of course.”
“Perfect.” I love it when he fucks me this way. The angle, the view—it’s all perfect. And it means I don’t have to move, which is even better, since he’s turned my spine and limbs to jelly.
Michael sits up and puts on some lube. My pulse is going crazy as he pushes my legs apart and positions himself.
The head of his cock breaches me, and as thick as he is, it makes my eyes water. Then he pulls out and does it again. And again. And again. I want him all the way inside me, every last goddamned inch of him, but that shallow fucking is enough to drive me insane.
Michael rests his weight on his hands, pushes with his hips and slides all the way inside me. And just in case I have any sanity left, he withdraws almost completely and does it all over again. He fucks me painfully slowly, drawing out each stroke until I’m ready to come unglued.
“Like that?” he asks as he pulls out again.
“So much. You fucking tease.”
“Me?” He flashes a toothy grin and then slams into me. “I have no idea what you mean.”
I can’t think of a comeback. My brain’s gone blank, and he’s pulling out again, and…yes, please, please, do it again. Do it—oh fuck!