.
When she sucked on his tongue, he groaned and pulled her hair to break the kiss. “Spread your thighs, baby. Straddle me.”
With her breasts against his chest, she straddled his hips and let him position her so that her folds opened over the heavy ridge of his cock. Fluid oozed from inside her, so that when he began to show her how to move, forward and back, she glided easily along the top of his shaft. There was pleasure in the motions, and she found that if she rubbed her nipples against the crisp hairs cloaking his chest, more was created.
She rubbed and rubbed, her breathing becoming more labored, her body releasing more moisture. Just when she felt a twinge of acute pleasure, he gripped her buttocks and halted her motions.
“Not so quick,” he said, giving a harsh laugh.
Rasping out a breath, she didn’t worry she wasn’t giving him back the same decedent sensuality, because his belly and thighs trembled as much as hers.
He stretched upward and scooped her mouth with his lips. “Get on your back.” When his hands moved away, she shifted to the side, and then lay flat, staring up at the ceiling as she waited for whatever he wanted to do next, and knowing it would be wonderful, because he was wonderful.
He rolled over her then pushed upward. The only part of him that touched her was his cock. Braced on one arm, he gripped his length and stroked her labia with the tip.
When he placed it at her entrance, she held her breath, not caring if he pressed inside and dying to know whether the thickness she’d held inside her hands could indeed fit inside her passage.
But he only swirled the crown around and around her entrance. Her pussy convulsed, tightening as though trying to capture him. And then he moved the tip higher and butted against the knot at the top of her folds that was beginning to swell and ache.
With her fingers digging into his muscles, she wrinkled her nose and pursed her lips, reveling in the sensations as he stroked over her clitoris, rubbing it. “I like that,” she whispered.
“There’s more. So much more.”
Her breath caught. “Show me. Please.”
His jaws ground. “You tempt me.”
“I need more, Sigurd.”
“Little siren,” he whispered, his gaze bored into hers.
“More,” she insisted, reaching out to grip his shoulders and pull him closer.
But again, he escaped, moving down her body.
He mouthed her nipples, rotating his head as his open mouth teased. His tongue stroked outward and toggled one turgid tip, flicking it.
Giving a sigh, she couldn’t help writhing beneath him.
“So, sweet. So, responsive. I knew you’d be like this.”
Her legs moved restlessly. “It hurts, Sigurd. I need…”
“More, I know.”
Then he latched his mouth around her areola, and he sucked hard, drawing her into his mouth where he teethed and nipped and flicked until she drew up her thighs and pushed her pelvis against his belly. Anything to get relief from the consuming tension.
Aoife clutched the sheets beneath her, fisting her hands in the fabric to pull hard as he pleasured one breast then moved across to torture the other. She’d never felt anything as glorious as his teeth and mouth. “I feel strange…hot, so tense…”
After releasing her breast, he moved lower. His hands gripped her waist as he licked her ribs and dipped into her bellybutton. When his mouth moved farther south, she gripped his hair hard and pushed downward, forcing his face between her legs. “Sigurd!”
Chuckling, he licked upward through her folds then ducked down to trail upward again.
Nothing had ever felt this divine or this delicious. Her hips rolled, something in the rhythm ratcheting up her excitement. Her eyelids fluttered downward, but she caught his gaze. He watched her. Something dark and exciting gleamed in his gaze as he stuck out his tongue and gave her another long, wet lap.
“Again,” she whispered, her back arching.
He obliged, but this time, he pressed higher, flattening his tongue against her clitoris and rubbing.