I lick him again from top to bottom, then take one of his balls inside my mouth and suck on it gently. I look up as he throws his head back and lets out another moan.
“Fuck it,” he says roughly, bringing his wrists to his mouth. In seconds he has the tie off his wrists, loosening it with his teeth. He throws it aside and steps out of the pants and boxers gathered at his ankles. Roughly, he lifts me to my feet and spins me around, pressing my body against the loft bed’s ladder. He grabs at my panties and yanks them down in a single motion. I’m completely exposed to him, but I don’t care. I’m his and willing to let him do whatever he wants for this one night. He grabs my breasts, pushing them together and licking both nipples. I feel the rasp of his five o’clock shadow against my breasts, and it makes him seem even more dominant. He kisses my mouth hard and I can see the war of impulses between kissing my tits and kissing my face. He buries his face into my neck, licking and sucking.
“You’re incredible,” he says, his voice heavy with wonder and lust. “I can’t get enough of you.”
He slides his hand down my thigh, stops at my knee and hikes it up so my foot rests on the second ladder wrung. “Do you know how hard you made me?” he asks. “Do you know how badly I want to bury my cock deep inside you? Do you want that Weaver?”
His words make me flush, not from embarrassment but from arousal. I stare dumbly at him, having lost the ability to form words.
The hand that had been stroking my thigh drifts toward me pussy. I’m so turned on I wouldn’t be surprised if he can feel the heat coming off of me. He rubs his fingers softly over my mound and makes a sound low in his throat. “I said,” he repeats, “do you want my cock inside you?” He punctuates the question by dragging a finger down my slit and inserting it into my dripping cunt. He hums his satisfaction.
“You’re so wet,” he says, dragging his finger back up and circling over my clit. He’s applying barely any pressure, just the subtlest touch, but I can feel my clit throbbing and growing swollen under his attention.
“Do you like this, Weaver?” he asks. “Do you like what I can do with my hands?”
It’s maddening. He plays with my clit, building up a little pressure, and then disappears back into my pussy, pulsing, skimming my g-spot, and then starts his ministrations again. I’ve never had such a slow build up before, and I can feel my orgasm growing, so slowly, so steadily. I must close my eyes because Chris says sternly, “Look at me.”
I see him. His brown eyes bear into mine with such a look of want and concentration that I could burst into flames. He kisses me, his tongue darting in my mouth, but I can’t kiss back, I’m barreling toward the exquisite end, so close to coming if he’d just stay in that spot. He must see my hunger because he growls, “Like this?” and earnestly starts working my clit, rubbing in tight circles and lessening the pressure on my hip so I can meet his rhythm. His lip quirks up in a smile, and I know he’s enjoying watching me. It’s odd how comfortable I feel, how freely I moan, allow my lips to part and throw myself completely into the pleasure he’s giving me.
“Come for me, Weaver,” he urges, his finger sliding over my clit and two others pulsing inside me. “I want to watch you. I want to feel you come on my hand. Then I’m going to fuck you and feel you come on cock. Come Weaver.”
His words, his touch, his lips brushing mine as he says those dirty things to me, it all comes spiraling into sharp focus, the wave building in my toes, my fingers, and hurtling me into space as I break apart into a million pieces, bright white light flashing in front of my eyes, until every nerve and cell seem to come back together, guided under his deft fingers. I sling my arm over his shoulder and feel him holding my weight, as wave after wave crashes over me.
I lose track of time as I ride out my orgasm, my face buried in the crook of his neck. He wipes my hair away from my damp forehead and lays his lips against mine. I can feel him smiling.
“You seem pretty satisfied with yourself, you know that?” I say, smiling back against his mouth.
“I could say the same about you,” he says. “I’ll be right back.”
I watch him walk into the small bathroom. The moonlight and the soft glow of the lamp accentuate his muscular back and his taut ass. That ridiculous grin breaks across my face again and I can’t believe my luck. I hear the faucet run and quickly climb up the ladder into my bed. The door opens and I watch Chris walk out and duck under the loft to the couch and his clothes. For a minute I’m afraid he’s going to get dressed, and awful disappointment washes over me, but then I hear the ladder creak and see the top of his head as he climbs up to the bed. Up to me.