I take her clit in my mouth and kiss it softly, pulling my lips away to make it pop softly back into place. I take it again, this time pressing the back of my tongue against it and rolling it over, the taste of her losing control, of her body swelling with sensations. I bring my fingers to her * and slide two inside, stirring against her walls while I work her clit with the back of my tongue, drowning in the flow of her unleashed carnality.
I lose myself in her, forget who I am as I focus solely on the movements of her body, responding as if they were my own. I interpret her moans and squeals like a foreign language that tells me to go, stop, faster, harder. Her juices dripping over my face, her smell filling my nose, her thighs squeezing my head, a woman worthy of worshipping, worthy of giving everything to. Jessie filling my every sense, my every being.
I stay there for what feels like hours, bringing her in ever-swirling circles of pleasure, falling and rising to ever-increasing heights. A gathering avalanche, a growing storm. I know the button to push, and when her squeals start getting quick, her body starts pressing itself into the couch, I know it’s time. I push my fingers deeper, curving the knuckle a little to hit the place that always brings her over the cliff, my tongue at her clit, my hand squeezing her breast, an assault of bliss on all sides.
When she comes, she’s like a woman possessed, her hands digging into my hair with a strength nobody would assume, and a scream loud enough to fill a stadium. I feel her legs tighten around my neck, hard thighs taut and stiff, and then she relaxes.
I crawl up over her on all fours and lay beside her, my arm across her chest, our legs tangled, and study the profound peace on her face, eyes closed, mouth softly smiling. When she looks at me her eyes are radiant, sleepy, as if she’s dreaming.
I trace my fingers across her collarbone, down around the curve her breast, around the tenderness of her stomach. She hums appreciatively, and I start wondering how we’re ever going to stop.
16
Jessie
Just like he’s done for the past three mornings, Nate slams my alarm clock quiet as soon as it starts blaring. Giant arm flexed, fist coming down on it so hard I’m sure it’s going to break. And just like a beautiful recurring dream, I look up at him from where I’m lying on his chest, and give him a smile.
“I fucking hate alarm clocks,” he grins, as he brings his arms back around me. Just like he’s done every morning. A girl could get used to this.
I run my hand along the definition of his torso and take a deep breath, my breasts pushing up against him. I bring my thigh up, brushing over his leg, my knee grazing against his cock. I’m still feeling the satisfying grogginess from last night’s ever-inventive fucking, as if sleeping for six hours was just a brief interruption.
It’s quiet but for the distant sound of Lorelei in the shower and the rustling of the blankets as Nate pulls me closer, and everything seems bathed in the soft-focus warmth of my sleepiness. I nuzzle my face deeper into his chest, marveling at how good he smells, and suddenly wonder if I’ve ever wanted one moment to last forever as much as now. His hand moves up my spine and he slowly strokes the back of my neck.
“I’m going to fall asleep again if you do that,” I mumble into the warmth of his chest.
He chuckles a little, and I feel every vibration of it through my cheek.
“I’m going to get horny if you don’t move your leg,” he says, making me suddenly realize that I’ve been rubbing my thigh against his groin.
We settle into each other again, and after what could as easily be three seconds as three days there’s a knock on my bedroom door, so loud and harsh in our world of intimate comfort it may as well be a bomb.
“Shower’s empty, babe,” Lorelei calls from the other side, before humming her way back down the hall to her room. I’d never get up before six AM if I didn’t work on set – I still don’t understand how Lorelei can be such a perky little early bird when most of her nights are late and long and consist of trailing celebrities all over town – but I guess gossip never sleeps.
“That’s our cue,” Nate says, patting me softly on my shoulder. His sober voice and the shift from strokes to pats telling me dreamy-morning-happy time is over, and now it’s time for the real world to start grinding me down again.
I roll off him and groan with the passion of the full-time worker at the ceiling. Nate pulls his arm from under me and gets up, sweeping the curtains aside to let the light in and then stretching athletically in front of it. I squint and watch him, the first rays of morning sunlight hurting my eyes, but the silhouette of his torso more than making up for it.
“You take the shower first,” he says, as he twists his hips like he’s about to play a tennis match. “I don’t need to be at work til nine anyway.”
I roll off the bed and stumble to my feet.
“Why don’t we go together?” I say, with as much insinuation as I can when half my face is still asleep.
Nate laughs as he comes around the bed to put his hands on my arms and hold me in front of him.