er?” She pressed against his side. “I don’t have anywhere to be if you don’t.”
Mark laughed. “I think I can clear my schedule for the day.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but he interrupted her with his lips pressed to her own, one of his hands curling around the back of her neck to draw her deeper into the kiss. There was nothing rushed about it. Like she’d said, they had all day. It was a long, slow, lazy kiss. The kind of kiss he thought he could really get used to sharing with someone who shared his bed more than once.
Reluctantly, Mark pulled back to breathe. The he kissed her again. “I think,” he said when they broke apart, “that it’s my turn this time.”
“Your turn for what?” Camille asked.
Instead of answering, Mark untangled himself from her, pressing her gently down into the mattress before she could protest. He slid his hands up the curve of her waist, and leaned down to press his mouth to her throat, her belly. She sighed, sinking against the mattress, like every muscle in her body was remembering how to relax.
Mark nipped at her inner thigh, just sharp enough to sting, and she gasped. His hands curled around her legs just above the knee, sliding them open wider on the sheets. She squirmed in his hold, but not like she wanted to get away. The motions were an attempt to get him to move up, put his mouth where she so obviously wanted it. He brushed another kiss against her thigh and listened to her longing moan.
“Mark, come on,” she gasped when he kissed her inner thigh again. “Stop teasing.”
He lifted his head enough to smile up at her. “We have all day, though. Why rush it?”
“Because if you don't I'm going to spontaneously combust.”
Mark laughed, knowing she could feel the warm air against her skin. Camille writhed. One of her hands reached down, tangling in his hair, tugging enough to let him know where she'd really like him to go. He didn't give in to the pull.
“Please,” she said. “Mark.”
“Hmm.” He tipped his head to the side like he was considering, and closed his teeth gently over soft skin. “Okay. I suppose.”
He didn't waste any time moving up then, sliding his tongue over her sex. She arched up from the bed with a gasp and a little sound that might have been a whimper.
“Been waiting for this since last night,” he pulled back long enough to say.
Her answer was another soft moan as he leaned back in, his tongue finding her clit. His hands on her thighs slid upward, wrapping around her hips instead to hold her still for him. She bucked against the pressure.
“Damn,” she said above him, breathless and shaky. “Oh, fuck. Mark.”
He didn't pull back this time, just kept up the stroke of his tongue against her. One of his fingers slid inside her, and her thighs shook against his shoulders. Mark drew back and pressed two inside.
The hand still tangled in his hair curled a little tighter, and her foot pressed against the middle of his back, trying to draw him in closer, a silent request for more. He didn't give in. Like he'd told her already, they had all day. So he kept up the same slow pace, drawing her slowly toward the edge of orgasm, not allowing the pleasure to build any faster. A string of moans escaped her, coming faster, each one pitched a little higher than the last. Begging without words for release.
He could feel the tension coiling in her muscles again. She was close.
Mark flicked his tongue over her clit, fingers sliding in deep. The tension wound in on itself and exploded outward. He could feel it in the rock of her hips and the tremble in her thigh muscles. A little cry left her throat, and a word that might have been his name.
This time, he didn't stop. He kept up the same easy pace. Her second orgasm came faster, and then a third. Mark worked her through each of them with fingers and tongue, feeling the shudder of pleasure rocking through her in the motion of her body and the curl of her toes against his back.
She shoved at his head and he finally pulled back, looking down at her sprawled on the sheets, her cheeks flushed and her chest still rising and falling with rapid breaths. Her dark hair was spilled messily over the pillow. It was an intensely satisfying picture. One he wouldn’t mind seeing a few more times. Or a lot more times.
“Hmmm” she breathed. “I think you’re going to have to carry me out of here when I eventually leave.”
“That good, huh?”
“I’d tell you, but I’m worried you’ll get conceited about it,” she answered, smiling a little tiredly. “So I’m not going to tell you that no one has ever made me come three times in a row like that before.”
Mark laughed at that, but the sound came out a little strained. She’d had hers. He hadn’t had his. “We could go for four,” he suggested.
Her tongue slipped out to wet her lower lip. “We could,” she agreed, her eyes sliding down his body to his hard cock. “That looks painful.”
She wasn’t wrong.
One of her hands lifted from the bed, and she crooked a slender finger at him. Her long nails were painted as red as her lips had been before time and kissing wore the color off.