STRIPPED (The Slate Brothers 3)

Tyson leans over and kisses me gently. I relax into the kiss, then deepen it. It’s not the most passionate kiss we’ve shared— but it’s romantic, and sure. The kind of kiss that only happens when two people have kissed plenty of times before. Tyson reaches over, lifting me up and onto his lap like I weigh nothing all, his lips on mine the entire time. Once I’m situated, he pulls away from my mouth, kisses my cheeks lightly, then meets my eyes. “I don’t regret anything with you. Do you regret being with me?”

I smile. “No. Not at all. I feel like I ought to— like it’d all be simpler if Trishelle hadn’t gone to that cheerleading tryout. But…I can’t regret it.”

He pulls me closer, and I feel my heartbeat prick up at the sensation of being protected by his arms. He holds me, stroking my back, and the motion makes the robe slide off my shoulders, exposing my chest to him. He presses his tongue to my teeth when he looks down at my bare breasts, at my nipples hardening in the cool air. I tilt my head to the side, and reach for one, pinching at it, rolling my nipple between my fingers—

“We don’t have to,” he says quickly. “It’s been a long day. A very long day. I didn’t bring you here to have sex with you.”

I kiss him, the motion bringing my chest to his, my breasts pressing against his muscles. “I know,” I say. “But when we have sex, you’re in control, Tyson. And believe me when I say, I’ve never wanted to let someone else be in control more than I do right now.”

I ease myself out of the bathrobe, letting it fall to the bed, and Tyson reaches over to turn off the bedside lamp. The room is lit only by the lights outside, leaving us in near darkness save the occasional flash of Tyson’s eyes, or the gleam of dim light off his sleek arms. He takes charge, turning me onto my back and pushing my limbs out, then kissing my mouth gently, letting his tongue flick at my lips. I arch toward him as he moves down, trailing his tongue across my jaw, down my neck, kissing my shoulders before sliding a hand up my side and cupping my right breast in his palm. He moves down, pulling my nipple to his mouth and sucking it, his tongue circling my areola, his touch gentle but firm.

We don’t speak, even though we’ve been far from silent with one another up until now. There’s something about the room, though, about the situation, about us that makes this time different. I don’t need to tell him that I belong to him; he already knows. He doesn’t need to tell me how hard it is for him to resist fucking me straight away; I already know. Instead, I relax as he appreciates my body with his mouth, pulling my breasts together and licking through my cleavages, biting lightly at each one, flicking my nipples with his tongue one at a time. I hum with pleasure as the rest of the world and its incessant drama melts away, and Tyson moves down to kiss my stomach, my scars, my hips, and then gently slides a hand between my thighs to part them.

I lift my pussy toward his mouth, but he moves slowly, methodically. He kisses at my knees first, back and forth between each thigh, then along each side of my pussy. I moan, and though the sound is light, it’s perhaps needier than usual. Tyson responds by kissing my clit gently, as quick as a peck on the cheek, and then tongues up and down the sides of my pussy, exploring each fold, tasting me, enjoying me. He finally deepens his kisses, and his mouth covers my pussy, his tongue sliding into me and circling my entrance— I’m still so tight, even when it’s only his tongue penetrating me.

I moan again; I’m not close to orgasm, exactly, but I’m close to…something. Some feeling of lightness, of trembling, of relief, like I’m experiencing an orgasm over the course of hours instead of moments. Tyson fucks me with his tongue, and I wind my fingers into his hair so I can better grind my hips against his mouth. He moves up, sucking on my clit, and then reaches underneath me to lift my hips up higher, to give him better access to my pussy. I moan again as he squeezes my ass cheeks gently, massaging them with his thumbs, licking at me like I’m the sweetest thing he’s ever had in his mouth. I lift my legs and wrap them around his shoulders, and he groans against me as the drunken, tender feeling of a long orgasm trickles across my body.