“I think that’s a great idea.” I shift so I’m on my side next to her, one of my legs between hers. I don’t dive right in and start sucking on her nipples.
With guys, all the foreplay is nice but unnecessary. We’re happy with a handle grab and some stroking. Women are different. They need more than physical contact. It’s psychological. It’s always better when there’s lead up. I’ve seen some cool documentaries on the topic. It’s like research. Porn is probably the worst possible thing a guy can watch to get pointers on what gets a woman off. Pounding away like a jackhammer isn’t going to do it. There has to be connection. I’m good at that. I say all the right things, use all the right techniques. If there was a Masters in female orgasms, I’d have one.
I kiss her neck and rest my hand on her waist, inching my way up her side until I’m almost palming the swell. Leaning to the side, I prop myself up on an elbow and go back to circling her nipple with a fingertip. I kiss my way across her jaw until I’m at her lips.
We make out like that for a while, and every time things start to heat up, I change my approach. Her little hums and moans turn desperate, so I nibble along her throat and over her collarbone until I reach her boob. When her hands go into my hair and she arches her back, I lick her nipple.
“Miller.” It’s more groan than word.
“You want a little more of that?” I ask.
Her palm curves around the back of my neck, pushing my face into her boob. “That’d be great.”
“Like this?” I cover her nipple with my mouth, sucking softly.
“Exactly like that.”
While I use my mouth on the top half of her body, I ease a hand down to palm her through her shorts.
“What’re you doing?” Sunny asks.
I stop sucking her nipple so I can answer. “Uh . . . touching you? Do you want me to stop?” I can’t see why she would considering she’s been rubbing herself on my thigh since I started with the nipple love, but it’s always better to ask than assume.
“Yes. No. Wha—I don’t, but you already did that.”
“I’m happy to do it again.”
“But I already came, and you haven’t.”
“It doesn’t have to be a one-for-one thing, Sunny, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’ll make you come as many times as you want me to, unless you have a thing against multiple orgasms.” It’s supposed to be a joke, but when she doesn’t answer right away I lean back. “Sunny?”
Her eyes dart to the ceiling, away from mine. “I’ve never had more than one.”
“Seriously? But you can have, like, four million in a row.” If I was chick I’d get myself off all the time, every hour of every day, probably. I guess it’s a good thing guys can’t have that many in a row. Otherwise we’d never get anything done.
Sunny shrugs one shoulder. “I’ve never tried to have another one. Usually my wrist is sore after the first one since it takes so long.”
“It didn’t take long for me to get you off downstairs.”
She bites her lip. “It didn’t.”
“You cool with it if I try again, then?”
“Okay. If you want, but don’t worry if you can’t make it happen.”
“Oh, I’ll make it happen.” I sit back on my knees and hook my fingers into the waistband of her shorts, ready to get down to business. “Can I take these off?”
At her nod, I drag them over her hips and down her legs. I take a moment to appreciate her panties, which isn’t something I usually do. They’re not satin or lace, they don’t have bows or ribbons or bling on them, and they don’t say anything dirty, but they lead to the one place I want to bury my face in more than anything else in this world right now, so they’re awesome.
“Can these go, too?” I ask, fingering the waistband.
She lifts her hips, pulls them down, and tosses them over the edge of the bed—along with her shorts.