“On the contrary, I’m enjoying myself immensely.”
“Good.” I smiled. “Then you’re going to love this.”
“You’re not doing this right,” he complained. “You should let me have my turn first; then I will allow you to molest me, and after that we will work together and—”
I slid backward and grasped his penis with a firm but gentle grip and licked the underside.
He sucked in a huge quantity of air and with both hands gripped the sheets beneath him.
“What was that about not doing it right?” I asked.
“I was wrong. So wrong. Very wrong. I’ve never been this wrong in my life,” he babbled, his eyes full of hope.
I smiled again, a very womanly smile, one chock-full of the power that women held over men, and then appliedmyself to make him babble even more. By the time I was done fully investigating his genitals, he was almost incoherent.
“I like how you thrash around when I do this,” I commented at one point, and gently squeezed his testicles while running my tongue the length of his penis.
He groaned and his hips bucked.
“Now, how about I do this—” Before I could finish my sentence and put action to (unspoken) word, he sat up and said loudly, “No! It’s my turn now.”
“But—”
I was on my back before I realized what was happening. He spread my legs and swung them over his shoulder, grinning wickedly at me over my pubic mound. “No buts, my fair little temptress. Now it’s your turn to thrash around and moan and groan and not be able to think straight. We shall commence thusly.”
“I love how you talk,” I said, my eyes rolling back in my head when he stuck a finger into my depths at the same time his tongue started investigated the outer tingly bits. And that pretty much was the last thing I said that made any sense. Dixon curled another finger into me, which sent me lurching upward. I grabbed his arm and said, the words tumbling over one another, “Oh my god, that’s good! That’s really good! Stop doing that right now because if you don’t—”
“Stay there,” he said and, to my intense sadness, rolled off and disappeared into the bathroom. He returned almost instantly with a strip of condoms, one of which he was trying to roll onto himself as he ran back to the bed.
“Hurry!” I said, my body rife with demands for his body to return to its right and proper place.
“I’m trying. I’m trying, but the blasted thing... Got it.”
“Thank god.” I almost sobbed, and welcomed him back onto me with little cries of happiness. He sank intome with a move that seemed so right, and yet not nearly enough. I moved with him as he let his hips go wild, my mouth busy with nibbling along his collarbone, the feel and scent and taste of him wrapping me up in a haze of purest pleasure. I bit his ear when he made a little swiveling move and dug my fingers into his shoulders, wanting to yell and sing and dance and never move from the spot all at the same time.
“I hope,” he said, panting into my ear, “I hope you’re... I hope...”
“Oh yes,” I said, wrapping my legs around his and thrusting upward, my back arching as my orgasm spiraled out in ripples of sensation. My muscles tightened and spasmed around him, forcing him to thrust hard a couple of times, murmuring something into my neck as he shuddered his own pleasure.
“Well, that,” I said a few minutes later, when Dixon rolled off me, “was seriously awesome.”
He lifted his head and squinted at me. “How is it you can talk when I can barely catch my breath?”
“I’m a woman,” I said, turning to my side so I could trace a finger down his lovely chest. “We are superior that way.”
“I think you’re cheating somehow,” he said, closing his eyes again.
“That’s because your poor man’s brain can’t cope with a life-changing orgasm and still be able to indulge in pillow talk.”
“Life-changing, eh?” he asked.
“That’s right.” I poked him in the side until he opened his eyes. “Can I say again that this was totally unexpected? I don’t want you thinking I’ve been laying a trap for you just because you’re a handsome Englishman.”
He stared at me for a minute. “You think I’m handsome?”
“Of course I do. You’re all yummy and you have pretty gray-blue eyes with black lashes that I can tell you make me intensely jealous.”
“My eyes are plain hazel, not pretty gray and blue.”
