Sir?
I groan, dragging both hands through my hair as she slips off the couch and slides the coffee table back a few inches. As she stands in front of me, her hands go to the zipper under her arm. “I know you’re a big fan of the dress, but it’s dry-clean only. Plus, I really like the mental image of me being naked between your knees with your dick in my mouth. Would you mind terribly?”
I just blink up at her, unmoving. She’s actually trying to kill me. I’m convinced. She’s going to use this casual dirty talk to end my life before I can come in her mouth. It has to be her master plan…if she was the kind of girl to make plans.
“I…” That’s it. That’s the best I manage.
“I’ll take that as a no,” she says with a flirty smile. “Why don’t you get more comfortable too? Lose the shoes…and whatever else too. Though I do kind of like the idea of you keeping the briefs on. There’s something so sexy about a man exposed but not undressed.”
She wants me to keep the briefs on? Done. At this point, she could ask me to wear a scuba mask and a cowboy hat, and I’d say yes.
I kick off my Sperry sneakers, my gaze locked on her as she drags down that zipper. Then she’s pulling the dress off over her head, getting lost in a sea of pink tulle before she tosses it onto the chair.
She stands in front of me in a white, strapless corset-looking bra and no fucking panties. Her little triangular thatch of soft hair points down to the pussy I just devoured. Reaching around behind herself with both hands, she arches her shoulders back, working the clasps of her bra. In moments, it clicks open, and she breathes a sigh of relief, dropping the bra to the floor.
“Whew, that first free breath always feels good,” she huffs with a little laugh.
My gaze trails down her body from her face to her full breasts, now hanging naturally, unsupported by the corset. She’s got faint red lines marring her skin at her ribs and above her hips. I reach out on impulse, my fingers tracing delicately over the red mark above her left hip.
“They fade quickly,” she says, brushing her fingers through my hair.
“I don’t want this skin marked.” Then I glance up, holding her gaze. “I don’t want you hurt. Ever.”
There’s a softness in her gaze. “You would never hurt me, Ryan.”
I swallow the emotion in my throat. “It’s important to me that you know that.”
“I do.”
I pull her to me as I stand. Then we’re kissing again. I think, at this point, we should just always be kissing. Friends who kiss. And fuck. And maybe keep living together.
Her tongue dances with mine as she works loose the button of my jeans. I cup her breasts, loving the feel of her hard nipples grazing my palms. She tugs down the zipper, and then her fingers are wiggling their way inside the top of my boxer briefs. I brace for impact, heart stopping as she slips her hand down, cupping my hard dick.
She hums another one of those impossibly sexy sounds against my lips as her fingers wrap around my shaft, stroking me from root to tip. She sucks on my bottom lip as she pulls away, leaving me breathless as all my senses now focus on her hand.
“You kidding me with this, puppy?” she teases. “Please tell me you know how to use this masterpiece to ruin a woman.”
“I think so,” I manage to say, my brain still buffering.
She smiles up at me, her thumb brushing over the tip of my dick, spreading my precum.
“Fuck,” I groan.
She smiles up at me. “This game has only one rule, remember? Feeling good. Let me make you feel so good, Ryan. I want to taste you…please you—”
I silence her with my mouth. It’s the only option. She has to stop talking before I lose all control, drag her to this floor, and fuck her to pieces. She twists me up with a look and spins me out with a smile. I’m fucking mad for this woman.
Before now, sex has always been procedural for me. I have urges, and I satisfy them. I want the women I’m with to feel good. I want it to be fun for both of us. I want us both satisfied. But mainly I just want the screaming urge to ease so I can refocus on my game.
Control at all times. Body and mind.
With Tess in my arms, I’m quickly losing that control. I want to lose control. Sex with her doesn’t feel biological. It doesn’t feel like satisfying urges. It feels fucking spiritual. We’re connected somehow. She reads me. I think she sees me, sees what I’m hiding. She knows I’m curious, knows I want more. Would she let me have it? Would she let me explore all it means to worship her?
She gives my jeans a sharp tug, so they drop down my thighs. The left side catches on my knee brace. Breaking our kiss, she drops her head down, kissing my chest, her hands smoothing over my hips and around to my lower back. She has her way, kissing down my body until she drops to one knee, her face right in front of my tented boxer briefs.
But her attention isn’t on my dick. She focuses lower, gently sliding my jeans down from around my knee brace. Ducking down, she brushes a little kiss to my exposed thigh right at the top of the brace.
From her knees, she looks up at me. “Why don’t you sit down? Get comfortable.”
I step out of my jeans and sit on the couch, my gaze locked on her as she inches forward, spreading my legs. She settles herself between them, her gentle hands brushing up my thighs.
“Take your dick out, Ryan. Show me how you like to touch yourself. Let me watch you play.”
I’m breathless, aching for her attention, as I drop my hands to my briefs and tug them down my thighs, freeing my dick.
Her heated gaze takes me in, trailing from my bunched-up briefs to my dick, up my chest to my face. “You look like a king,” she says, the want shining in her eyes. “You’re so beautiful like this, you have no idea.”
“Keep talking to me like that, and this will be over before it begins,” I warn.
She smiles. “Do you like praise, puppy?” Her hands dance over my thighs as she teases me, alternating between the soft pads of her fingertips and the sharp glide of her nails. “I think you could be perfect for me,” she goes on. “Such a sweet, good boy. I think you like when I talk to you. You like when I narrate my thoughts out loud. Do you want to know what I’m thinking right now?”
I swallow. “Will I survive it?”
She drops her head to press kisses along my inner thigh. “I’m thinking about how beautiful you looked with your face buried in my cunt. There’s nothing more powerful than a man on his knees, drawing forth the pleasure of his partner.” As she talks, she smooths her hand up my right thigh, stopping just before she gets to my dick. “I told you to touch yourself,” she says, her tone firm. “I want to watch you fuck your hand.”
My hands are currently splayed on either side of me, bracing against the couch cushions like I’m readying for an earthquake. My right hand moves robotically, wrapping around my dick and I stroke myself, my eyes locked on her.
“Look at you.” She watches my hand stroke up and down. “How does it feel?”
“Like my hand is rough,” I reply through clenched teeth.
She leans over me, pressing between my legs until her face is floating above my dick. All I see is a sea of red curls. I flinch as I feel a cool drop of something touch the top of my dick.
“Work it in,” she says. “I want you wet.”
I stroke up my dick and groan, my head sinking back against the couch as I work her saliva over my tip. My entire body is firing with the need to come.
Not yet. Too soon. I need to last. Control.
She does it twice more and pretty soon my dick is slick with her saliva from root to tip. She sits back, watching me work myself, her gaze taking all of me in as she looks from my face to my chest, my dick, my arms. Every moment she watches, I feel my desperation mounting.
“Are you aching yet?” Those hazel eyes watch me lose control.
“Yes,” I grit out.
“Do you want my mouth, Ryan?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want it fast or slow?” she teases, using my words.