But he is. He so is.
His mouth is savage. He’s tireless. His tongue plunges deep inside me before licking up my clit and sucking me into his mouth. I nearly scream, my body at the height of all awareness, on the verge of overload. He reaches down with one hand and two long, beautiful fingers thrust deep inside, curling against me. The heat builds deeper, my nerves are a million champagne bottles about to burst. It’s the slow, twisting anticipation that makes my mouth drop open, my neck arch back until my head meets the mirror.
I’m both hypersensitive and barely aware. My legs clench around his face, driving his lips and tongue and fingers against me, inside me, harder, deeper and he responds by acting as if I’m all he needs to live his life, like he’d die without me.
With impatient hands, he pulls me toward him, his tongue hard and urgent and the world begins to tip on its axis. This world built for two.
I want to feel him, feel him, feel him. My hips rock into him hard. He drags his tongue back over my clit, flicking it so fast, back and forth, over and over, and I can’t breathe anymore.
He moans against me.
And then I let go.
I just fucking let go.
I’m in the freefall, coming onto his mouth, nearly falling off of the sink. His hands grip my waist, holding me up, while he finishes me up with the hard suck of his lips, ripping a cry out of my throat.
I’m loud. I know I am. I always am. And I don’t mind if someone is outside the washroom, overhearing my cries, because everyone in the whole fucking world needs to know what kind of a lover he is. He loves with every inch of him and he gives with every part of him.
When my orgasm subsides against his lips, he straightens up, staring at me with feverish eyes. His eyes that say he knows me, knows what I like and will never stop giving it to me.
But I’m completely selfish. I grab his head and kiss him, long and soft, the taste of me on his tongue reinvigorating me.
He moans into my mouth, it’s a sound straight from his gut, making my blood run even hotter. “You see how good you taste,” he whispers, his lips moving to my neck. “I’ll never get full from you.”
I fumble under his kilt for his cock, grasping his stiff length in my palm, so hot and pulsing against my skin. He moves forward and I guide him in, so wet and ready for him that he slides in like silk, our bodies accustomed to each other with a beautiful kind of ease.
I wrap my legs around his waist, my heels digging into his firm ass as he starts rocking into me, each slow, slick glide inside igniting my nerves once again.
I whimper as we find our rhythm, like we always find our rhythm and this time, this time, I know it doesn’t have to be the end. My body aches from wanting him so intensely and without saying anything, his body responds, always giving me more than what I need.
“Oh Kayla,” he groans against me, breathless, as a bead of sweat falls off his brow and onto my collarbone. I nearly expect steam to rise. He pushes in harder, and deeper, and it feels like the air is being pushed out of my lungs and I’m clinging onto his body as his pace quickens.
I press my nails into his back, clinging onto the ride. Our skin slaps together in a violent, thick sound that echoes off the walls. Each push is long and hard and he grunts with effort until his cock hits me in just the perfect place.
I go off like an atom bomb.
His hips pound against me, brutal, punishing, and he’s gone too with a flurry of groans, my name whispered over and over as he claws at my hips, releasing every inch of himself inside of me, shooting as far and deep as he can go.
It’s so fucking beautiful.