“Baby-doll?”
“Mmhmm…” I shifted my hips and toyed with the pink satin ribbon between my breasts that held together the ivory sheer open front apron-style robe that just brushed over my hips. A pale pink thong completed the look.
“Are you trying to kill me?” he said from the bed where he was lying down.
“I wanted to turn you on.”
He groaned, a hand rubbing across his forehead.
“Do you like it?” I hummed that Madonna song as I straddled his body on the bed.
“Jill.” His voice was a warning. His hands rushed up my bare thighs, and he ground his erection against me.
My fingers ran up his chest. “I’m sensing you like this look.”
His thumb grazed the patch of delicate fabric between my legs, and heat uncoiled inside me.
“Do you like wearing it for me?” His voice was husky, low. His thumb circled, applying more pressure.
My breath got shorter, and my hips rocked gently against his. “Hell yes.”
“You want me, Jillee?” Two of his fingers slid underneath the satin fabric of the panty and dipped up and down over my wetness. “‘Cause I want every inch of you, Firefly.”
My lids hooded my eyes. I couldn’t form words.
His free hand pulled on the elastic of my thong. “I like that you did this for me, but you don’t have to hook me, Firefly. I’m already hooked.”
He took his fingers away, and the stretchy fabric snapped against my skin. I let out a whimper at the mild sting.
“It’s icing on my already frosted cake.” He sucked on his fingers.
“G-good.” My voice shook.
He ripped off his shirt, and I helped him pull down his pants, tossing them to the floor. Sheer, blissful nakedness. His natural state. I loved his body. Lean and muscular, angrily inked, taut, and ready.
“Get back on me and turn around. I want to enjoy my present.”
Still kneeling on the bed, I turned around and straddled him again, shimmying my tush at him.
He muttered a few choice expletives under his breath, a hand gripping my ass cheek.
I peeked over my shoulder. He stroked himself with one hand. I took in the sight of him, his jaw slack, the muscles of his chest and arms straining as he rubbed his thick length, his eyes on me. My knees weakened, my heart beating wildly in my chest.
“Back up over me. Get close.”
I turned around again and inched back over his chest, my ass in the air. His fingertips traced patterns over my skin.
He let out a low moan. “What did you do down here?” A fingertip grazed through my little line of curls. “Fuck,” he growled, his hand cupping me.
Score for the airstrip.
Two of his fingers slid inside me, curving just where they should, stroking rhythmically. I cried out in return, the ability to form words beyond me as his fingers explored and beat out a rhythm, calling me to a primal ritual. I leaned over and nuzzled his stiff balls.
“Give me that *,” he said, his voice rough.
I moved further up the bed, and his tongue lapped at me. I jerked in his hold, my head falling forward, and I cried out at the lavish, sensual caress of his lips, the pressure and suck of his mouth. The pleasure was so delicate and so intense, all at once. Suddenly, his mouth turned savage, and I gasped loudly, my hands curling in the sheets, my body on fire. His hands held me in an urgent, painful grip, my breasts brushing the coarse hair on his legs. I felt shameless and wild and vulnerable all at once.
His fingers left me and rubbed my throbbing clit, punishing me with a fierce wall of pleasure. “Want my cock in you now.”
There was that savage impatience. A buzz of adrenaline shot through me.
I lifted off him, turned, and straddled him again, sliding his cock inside my wetness. “Yes!” I rolled my hips over him again and again, my hands planted on his chest.
I held his burning eyes as I found my rhythm, steadying myself on his chest. His hands slid over my undulating ass, keeping us close and tight together.
“Fuck me, Jill. Fuck me good, sweetheart.” His voice was hoarse.
“I want to…make you…come…hard,” I said on several gasp-filled breaths.
“Always do for you, Firefly. Only you, only you.”
His one hand grabbed ahold of the tie of my sheer lingerie and tugged on it. The material fell open, exposing my swaying breasts. He took one in his palm, roughly kneading it. I moved faster over him, the sensations leading me on, his hungry gaze chasing after me.
“Firefly,” he breathed, his corded neck straining. “Baby.”
I was lost in my rhythm, lost in the force of my body’s response.
The fingers of his one hand went into my mouth, and, grabbing his arm, I sucked on them for dear life. Their salty taste, the thick skin made my need more sharp, more fervent, more desperate.
He thrust into me harder. “Fly, baby.”
I flew, and all the bright pieces that were me were his to throw across his night sky and capture whenever he wanted.