HE KNEELS ON the end of my bed and runs his warm hands up my calves to my thighs. I expect his destination to be my underwear, but he surprises me by continuing on up over my belly, slipping under my shirt, over my ribcage, and skimming my breasts. My heart is beating in my clogged throat.
“I think you’re off course. I’ve never come from someone playing with my nipples before,” I quip breathily.
“You can’t play the whole course if you don’t start on the front nine.”
“Yes you can.”
“Shut up.” His thumb and forefingers close over my nipples through the fabric of my bra and tug.
I gasp. “Didn’t bother you last night.”
“It did bother me.” His legs follow his body up the bed, kneeling over me. “But I got a mainline hit of the smell and taste of you. I’d been watching you in that tiny fucking bikini all day? and I got … what should we call it … tunnel vision?”
“Did you just call my girl parts a tunnel?” I ask, incensed. But I arch up helplessly as his fingers continue their glorious work. I’m feeling the pull deep inside me. I’m feeling it between my legs. I’d like it to be his mouth and teeth, not his fingers.
He uses the arch of my back to slip a hand underneath me and wrangle my bra snap. The fact it’s tricky for him, makes me melt further. “Did you just use the term ‘girl parts’?” he asks. “I’ve never known you to ‘beat around the bush,’ so to speak.”
My loose bra pushes up easily, baring my chest to him. His fingers return to their work and I close my eyes.
“You’re …” Gasp. “The … one … beating around the bush.”
“All in good time.” He chuckles, his breath close to my skin. “I’d kiss you to shut you up, but I’d rather do this.” His hot mouth closes over my nipple, the sharp sensation ricocheting through every inch of me. I gasp and grab his head. Oh yes. My hips squirm uncontrollably as his lips nibble, his teeth graze and his tongue soothes. And he pulls deeply. A long desperate moan emanates from me as he moves to my other breast, my body arching off the bed. “Holy shit,” I mumble. “Feels … so good.”
“Are you sure you can’t come from this?” He groans the question.
“Keep it up and we’ll see.”
“I think I could. Come, I mean.”
“You need me to suck your nipples?” I joke.
“Jesus,” he says, over a mouthful. “You don’t ever shut up? No, from listening to you.” He sucks hard.
I let out a sharp whimper. “Are you sure you want me to shut up? Don’t you need to know if I’m enjoying it?”
Suddenly his hand is cupping me between my legs. Like a reflex, I’m instantly thrusting against his hand. God, yes. Please.
“I know you’re enjoying it.” He laughs.
Of course he does. I’m soaking wet. “Stop laughing.” I bite my lip.
The pressure of his hand increases, moving against me. “Why?”
“You’re enjoying this far too much.”
“Yes. Yes, I am. You have no idea.” The smile falls from his face, and his eyes grow hot and hard. His fingers slide under the fabric of my underwear and slip into my wet heat.
I mash my lips together trying not to cry out, and my body trembles from the restraint.
Then his fingers are gone, and he’s dragging my underwear down my legs. He spreads me wide and drops his head.
I’m making sounds I don’t recognize. Needy, breathy, desperate sounds. He’s not even there yet, and I’m dying.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he says. He’s looking at me laid bare. The tone of his voice, hard, desperate, longing, is tripping the orgasm nerve, it’s so damn intense.
“Shut up and make me come,” I snap with embarrassment and because his comment freaking nearly just sent me over the edge. His comment.
“Are you self-conscious?” He grins, looking up at me with his mischievous blue eyes from between my legs. “I never knew you were capable of it.”
“No,” I say and level with him. “I’m so turned on right now, I’m about to come with or without you, and I’d really like your mouth on me when I do, or I’m not letting you claim credit.”
A breath expels from him, sharp and hard, icing my wet flesh. And then, his hot mouth, his tongue, and then oh holy mother of all that is …