"Are you going to throw me over your shoulder again?" I say, and I hope I don't sound too eager.
"I want to work with, not against that whisky sour in your belly," Sanders says. His voice is gruff and sensual. If a voice could drop panties, this one, Sanders's voice, would undo my bra and bend me over.
I reach for my drink because I don't want to lick my lips right in front of him like this. It is practically lewd. My fingers connect with the glass, but I don't get a chance to lift it up to my mouth just yet.
"Put the ice cube in my mouth," Sanders says of one of the two cubes in my tumbler.
I reach my fingers inside my glass and grab one, bringing the slippery little devil to Sanders's parted lips.
His tongue comes out to catch it and draws it in his mouth. I am about to lick my fingers clean myself when Sanders circles my wrist and licks off the wet parts of my fingers.
I have the burn in my belly from only him, a fire that doesn't need booze to stoke the flames. I watch his mouth now, mesmerized as it releases my fingers and his tongue works over the ice cube.
Sanders rises and puts his knees on either side of my body, leaning over me and closing his mouth over my neck. His lips are hot but then his cold tongue shocks me. He licks and kisses down my neck and to my collarbone.
I'm shivering, and only part of it is the hot/cold sensations he's inflicting on my skin.
His hands grip my arms and pull me closer to him. I feel that strange power yet gentleness in play with the way he's holding me.
He's all raw power and muscle but he doesn't want to overtake me when he touches me.
His claim is giving, his need is to share pleasure.
It echoes something without words to verbalize themselves inside my own being.
Sanders brings his mouth lower down my collarbone, to the exposed vee of flesh from my blouse. The tiny cold sliver of the remaining ice flows right down my cleavage. I shudder at the cold, wet sensation.
Sanders grinds his hard cock against me, clothes between us but keeping very little to our imaginations. I know now that he's not going to rush, though, and that's both promising and infuriating. I want him. I want that cock I feel against me buried inside me until I shout out at the sheer pleasure of that massive cock filling me up with every inch of it...but I want every minute of the delicious minute of whatever else he has in store for me. He said the night. Could I take a whole night of anything he has planned?
I guess we are both about to discover that. I'm going to do my best. Part of the reason is because I'm already wondering if tonight is the last night that I will spend with Sanders. Part of me just genuinely wants to enjoy whatever he intends to do tonight. If I can trust nothing else, I can trust him with my body. That, he knows oh so well, even with so little time to get acquainted. Not that he didn't pack it in before. Ha ha. Right. I can't follow any more mental diversions. He removes my shirt and his teeth are on my bra. He looks up into my eyes and then removes the clasps. I thought for a moment that he might tear the bra right off of me with his teeth. It sent a wicked thrill through me. But that moment of eye contact when Sanders did the gentle thing but let his power hang in the air? That's downright addictive. I took a hit of that sensation and let it rush to my head.
My head that falls back in pleasure that instant the coolness of the air on my now bare breasts is replaces by his hands and mouth, exploring my flesh with the sensual thrall that only his touch on my skin can offer. I want to beg him for more but I can't. I focus on breathing and how it feels when he touches me. The heat that rose in my belly crawls to my toes and arches through my back. Tickles along my spine and plants wicked urges in my mind.
"You taste so good. I could lick your whole body all night, if I didn't have even better plans," Sanders growls against my skin. There's something commanding in even this compliment that sets my breathing crooked, hitching in my throat and making me tremble a little beneath him. I want so much more. My pussy is flooding my panties and I can't believe how wet I am already.
Sanders must be able to feel it against his cock, because he trails a hand down, beneath my skirt and hooks up to reach into the thin strip of what passes for panties nowadays. More lace than function, and more wet than dry now. His fingers run the full length of my slit and tease around my opening. I am completely melting now, shuddering in his arms and aching for him to increase what he's offering. A moan grows low in my throat and I want to be able to capture the heat that he's offering. My clit twitches. I bite my lip.
Sanders seizes one of my nipples in between his teeth and again the threat of so much more hangs in the air. The nibble on my nipple is then met with tongue and I simmer beneath this touch. The moan is breathy and slowly leaving my lips when he brings his thumb up to my clit. The air behind my moan pushes out into a low groan and I am ready to beg. I whimper a little as he picks up the speed with which he's circling my clit with this thumb, but it is still so maddeningly not fucking me hard that my greedy body find itself still unsatisfied. I am shaking beneath his touch. My legs squeeze against him, my hips angling to urge him for more.
But Sanders lets out a small laugh that tells me that not only does he know exactly what I want, but that he knows exactly when he plans to give it to me and I will not alter his timeline.
Sanders drags his mouth up my neck, making me sigh and reach out for him, before his lips crash over mine. A thousand brush strokes of lust paint over our mouths as our kiss deepens, our tongues flowing together and exploring each other's mouths with raw need. He moans into my mouth, his knuckles grazing over my pussy folds, and I am quaking in his hold, kissing him like a drowning woman hanging onto her life raft.
For a moment, we look into each other's eyes only for the second of coming up for air, and then our mouths close over one another's and our eyelids flutter shut. Time could stop, and the world could crumble around us, for all we care. His lips are like warm butter, his tongue sweet and strong with whisky, melting against my mouth until neither one of us can keep up with how fast our bodies are responding to each other. His hand under my skirt has me jumping through hoops in my brain, making sure that I don’t forget to breathe. I need to feel his touch so much more
than what he’s offering me, but I am holding on and holding out just like he wants me too.
Sanders strokes his fingers through my wet folds, teasing me more with his touch, with more pressure and weight behind it this time. I nibble on his lip because I am overtaken by his touch. I can’t push for any more from him because he has me pinned down. Sanders breaks our kiss and pulls his fingers out, licking my arousal from his skin. He brings his other hand to unzip my skirt and I help him slide me out of it. He loops his fingers into the sides of my panties, curling into them and pulling them down. The delicate fabric trailing down my skin makes me sigh, such a tease with everything else that he’s doing to me.
And when they get to my ankles, he just stops.
He doesn’t pull them down any more, keeps them there. Which keeps my ankles together.
“Don’t let those fall while I turn you over,” Sanders growls, rasping his knuckles over my inner thigh and watching the way it makes my lips part with the sensation. “That’s a very delicate fabric, I don’t want it torn while I lick your pussy.” His voice is full of dark promise and it shoots thrills through my body.
Sanders is a little kinkier than I imagined, though it wasn’t exactly the most simple or vanilla sexual experience of my life when we fucked the first time.
“Yes, sir,” I say with a sigh.