This woman. This fucking woman.
She squeezed and released me, and I pinched her nipples in payback. If only she could know how good it felt to have her hands on me. She gasped, shivered, and shifted her hips before bowing before me and licking one long stroke from her hand to my tip. Then she looked up at me and wet her lips with a long, slow circle of her tongue. She bent and took the crown in her mouth, suckling lightly before taking me deeper and deeper and deeper.
She moaned as I sank farther into her hot, wet mouth, the vibrations pinballing around my body and setting off sparks of heat. A rush of blood throbbed into my cock, getting me so hard I thought I might explode down her throat that very second.
I released her breasts. I couldn’t take it. I couldn’t touch her, have her moan in response, and keep myself under control. I tensed my jaw but it wasn’t enough—the press of her lips as she pulled away and sank yet deeper still, the swirl of her tongue, the press of her fingers, the way she swallowed as she took me so deep. It was all. Too. Much.
“Fuck.” I raised my hands to my head, powerless and completely under her spell.
She pulled off me with a pop. “I love having you in my mouth,” she said, daintily wiping the corner of her mouth as if I was her favorite food. “I love sucking you off.”
It was official. She was trying to kill me.
“I love that you’re enjoying it,” I replied, dizzy from her mouth and trying to bring the room back into focus.
She shifted on the bed and I realized she was undoing her jeans. “I have to get these off,” she said. “I’m so wet.”
Jesus. Fucking. Christ.
She peeled off the rest of her clothes and resumed her position in front of my throbbing dick, splaying her thighs, giving me just a glimpse of heaven. I wasn’t sure I could take much more, but I didn’t get to where I had by giving up.
The outline of her parted mouth, pouting and full, looked as if it had been conceived by a baroque painter. Her eyes tonight were burnished gold with brown edges that flickered in the moonlight. I wanted to dive into the orange-scented, soft curls of her hair. She reached for my cock and I cupped her face. “You’re beautiful.”
She stared at me as if she was waiting for the “but.”
“Beautiful,” I reiterated, crawling over her so she lay back under me.
“Nathan,” she said, placing a palm on my chest, her heat dissolving into mine.
“I mean it,” I said.
She shook her head.
“Yes,” I replied. “So beautiful.”
I pressed my lips to hers, once and then twice and then faster and harder. I rested the base of my cock between her folds, warmth finding warmth while our tongues met. I couldn’t properly remember our kiss from before. The memory was fuzzy at the edges, filled with champagne and the need to escape whatever it was both of us had been running from, but this kiss tonight I wouldn’t—couldn’t—forget. It felt so completely necessary, as if not kissing her would be ruinous for us both. This kiss was binding. Curative. This kiss was salvation.
Instinctively, our bodies began rocking together, friction creating more heat between us. The need to be inside her washed through me in waves that crashed against each passing second.
“Have you got a condom?” she asked, as if she was feeling the exact same thing. I reached for my wallet and pulled one out.
“Get it on. Quickly.” Desire tinged her words.
I clenched my jaw. Her eagerness. Her need. Her impatience. I’d never wanted a woman more.
I rolled on the condom, my fingers shaking with the adrenaline racing around my body, desperate for release.
I stood between her legs, pushed them wide and pressed my thumbs into her folds, parting them, wanting to see more than just a glimpse of how worked up she was. She moaned at my touch as her needy, swollen clitoris pushed out, begging for my attention.
Later.
I pressed my crown against her entrance and she covered her face with her hands. “Please,” she begged.
This girl. This fucking woman. What was she doing to me?
I pushed in, slowly, all the time keeping my gaze fixed on her: her nipples, tight and beaded and straining. Her hips, jutting forward like a puppy on a leash. As I reached the center of her, I luxuriated in the slow, strangled whimper that pulled from her throat.
“Feels so good,” she choked out.
I reached for her wrists and pulled her hands from her face. I needed to see her.
Our eyes locked and reluctantly, I dragged my cock from her. The space left in my chest at not being as deep into her as I needed to be was flooded with pleasure at the perfect feel of her squeezing me so tight. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Madison,” I chanted as I pushed in, trying to get into some kind of rhythm I could lose myself in. But every image, every feeling was so sharp, so complete and bright and completely consuming, that I couldn’t concentrate for long before my mental walls crumbled and I was again overcome by the moment. By this woman underneath me, looking up at me as if I’d created the moon just for her.