“Here,” he said, his voice commanding.
“Yes, sir!” I threw him a quick salute and a reluctant smile spread across his face.
“Sorry,” he said. “I just really want you.”
I threw the blanket at him and he caught it one-handed.
“Don’t be sorry,” I said. “Let’s have a picnic.”
“We haven’t got any food.” He looked puzzled.
“I was planning on eating you.”
His eyes widened with shock then a dazzling smile lit up his lovely face.
“Okay,” he said shyly.
For a moment the blanket floated above the sand as he spread it out, a matador with his cape.
I sat down rather inelegantly and watched him sink down beside me. I lay back and held up my arms to him in invitation. Accepting, his heat and weight pressed me into the blanket, his hands greedy on my body.
His touch was becoming braver and more confident and I celebrated in that; because I’d been the one to teach him. And there was no doubt that I was learning from him, too. I was beginning to understand what it meant to be loved. It was terrifying.
He rolled onto his back and pulled me on top so he could unzip my dress. His fingers were hasty, fumbling deliciously. He pulled the dress open at the back and ran the palms of his hands across my bare skin. I groaned into his throat and slid my teeth to his neck, biting more sharply than I’d meant.
Suddenly the dress seemed constricting. I pushed away from him, knelt up and pulled it off. For the second time in a few hours it was thrown to the ground; this time I didn’t care.
I unhooked my bra and dropped it to the sand, my nipples hardening in the cool air. He sat up, his eyes wide and needy, then tugged his sweatshirt over his head.
“You’re still wearing too many clothes,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “I think I should undress you. Lie down.”
He obeyed immediately and I knelt across him feeling wanton with need. His hands skimmed up my thighs, over my hips, crossing my stomach until they rested on my breasts, stroking them, caressing them. A sound like purring came from deep within his throat and he sat up, the hard muscles of his stomach contracting, and he nuzzled his face between my breasts. Then, angling his head to one side, he sucked my left nipple, hard. I gasped and his eyes flickered up but his mouth didn’t move away, his tongue teasing me, flicking from side to side. I arched my spine, throwing my head back. He ran his nails lightly across my skin then cupped my buttocks and squeezed them. His erection was hard, trapped by his jeans, pushing against the material as if it was trying to climb through the denim to reach me.
I pulled my breast out of his mouth and winced as I felt the sharp raking of his teeth.
I sat further back on his thighs and undid the single button of his jeans. I fixed my eyes on his, wanting to savor his expression as I unzipped his pants.
He leaned up on his elbows, his mouth slightly open, his breathing unsteady.
Almost more slowly than either of us could bear, I pulled the zip down, then, running my fingers over his sweet skin, I bent down to kiss him below his waistband.
He tasted different, not so good as before and I realized the odd, rubbery taste was from the condom we’d used earlier. Oh well, live and learn. Now time for the next lesson.
“Take off your pants and pass me a condom,” I ordered, my voice low and brittle.
He reached into his jeans pocket and passed me a foil packet. I rolled to one side and examined the little packet curiously while he kicked off his pants.
“Weird things, aren’t they?” I said.
“I guess,” he replied, his mind obviously elsewhere, as he reached over to run his hand up between my thighs and pushing his thumb against my clitoris the way I’d shown him. I convulsed so hard I nearly levitated off the blanket.
“Oh, God!”
“You okay?” he said, his voice concerned as he looked up.