I don’t think she’s wearing a bra at all. I don’t see any evidence of straps or other indications. In fact, considering how apparent her nipples are, there’s almost no chance anything is separating the little buds from me, except the sundress.
“Do your heroines like a slow burn, baby? Or do they prefer the hero to strip them quickly and make them come so fast their heads spin?”
She whimpers.
I lift a brow. I want her to answer me because it embarrasses her to talk about sex, and that’s making her hornier.
“Both,” she whispers.
“Do they like to be restrained and forced to orgasm, or do they prefer to be able to thread their fingers in the hero’s hair while he eats her?”
“Both,” she says again. Her cheeks are so fucking red. She looks feverish. She moans, tipping her head back.
I lower my lips to her tummy and kiss her smooth, soft skin, nudging the material up to expose more of her torso. Next, I flick my tongue over her belly button. Her stomach has fewer freckles than her arms, legs, and cheeks. I want to see how many are on her breasts. I want to count them.
Continuing higher, I finally drag my nose along the undersides of her tits. I can’t see them yet. The dress is tighter around them. I’m going to need to reach under and unzip her before I can explore any further.
But not yet. I’m going to take my time. She needs to feel every moment of this. An hour from now, I want her ruined for all men—real and imaginary. I want her sated and confused. Dazed with a permanent smile on her face. I bet I can make her beg me to fuck her before she goes to sleep.
I tease the undersides of her breasts back and forth with nothing but my nose until she’s arching and moaning, her desperation evident before I’ve even touched her anywhere important.
My hands are holding her thighs, reminding her that she’s spread open for me, making her feel exposed. Eventually I lift up so I can stare at her pussy. I slide my palms closer to her core and use my thumbs to part her folds. I can’t see her labia, but I know I’m driving her wild because she bucks and squirms.
Her hands come to my wrists. She tries to push me away, or perhaps pull me closer.
“Hands above your head, little pixie,” I demand.
Melody’s whimpers are fucking adorable.
I press down firmer on her inner thighs and pull her skin tighter with my thumbs. “Be a good girl. Lift your arms, baby.”
She purrs as she obeys. “Brody…” My name is music coming from her lips. I want to hear her beg like that every day for the rest of my life.
“That’s it… Keep your hands above you. If you move them, I’ll flip you over and spank you before I let you come. If you leave them there, I’ll wait until after you come to spank you.”
A low moan escapes her parted lips. Her eyes roll back into her head.
I can’t decide if I want to remove this dress so I can worship her tits first or nuzzle her wet panties. I’m going to do both—decisions, decisions. Maybe I should make her choose. “Which part needs attention first, little pixie? Your nipples or your clit?”
She shivers, goosebumps rising all over her arms and legs. “Brody…” This time, her voice is more of a whine. I love it.
I kiss her tummy again, nuzzle her adorable belly button. “Choose, baby. I’ll wait for you to decide.”
Her moans make my cock harder by the second. Fuck, she’s so responsive. I’m mostly only using words so far, and my girl is about to come. I can’t wait to watch her unravel.
I suspect she masturbates often. She’s not a stranger to orgasms. But this will be her first time coming for another person. I don't need a vibrator. She’s going to come on my mouth.
Rubbing her inner thighs with my thumbs, I wait. I’m a dominant man in bed. She’s learning that. Right now, she has to answer me to get what she craves.
“Nipples,” she mumbles, her head lolling back and forth.
I lean all the way over her to kiss her lips. “Good girl.” With a hand on the back of her neck, I lift her several inches so I can reach under her and pull the zipper of her dress down. After lowering her, I guide her arms to her sides, ease the straps from her shoulders, and slowly reveal her breasts.
I’m torturing myself more than I am her.
She squirms as soon as the air hits her nipples, the hard tips so damn pink. I can’t wait to taste them. First, I tug the dress the rest of the way off her and gently lift her arms above her head again.
I hover over my girl, clasping her wrists and pressing them into the mattress. “Can you keep your hands here for me, Melody?”
