I circle her clit slowly, feeling her hips start to move in response. Her breathing changes, coming faster, and I press my lips to her shoulder.
"Wake up, sweetheart."
Her eyes flutter open, confusion giving way to awareness as she realizes what I'm doing. "Oh?—"
"Shhh." I lighten my touch, teasing her in the way that made her scream earlier.
She arches back against me, one hand reaching back to grip my thigh. "Don't stop."
"Not planning on it." I work her slowly, thoroughly, feeling her get wetter with every stroke.
“That feels so good,” she whispers, after a moan. “I was dreaming about you.”
“Oh yeah?” I reply, huskily.
"Yes." The admission is breathless. "You were—your mouth?—"
"My mouth, huh?" I smile. "Roll onto your back."
She does, looking up at me with dark, hungry eyes as I move down her body. I kiss my way down her stomach, pausing to suck at her hip bone just to hear her gasp.
“What are you?—"
"Finishing your dream." I settle between her thighs, and the scent of her arousal makes my mouth water.
I kiss the insides of her soft thighs, spreading them open.
“Oh…” She writhes, as I lick through her velvety folds. Her hips buck off the mattress.
I pin her down with an arm across her belly and feast on her tender pussy.
The sounds she makes are incredible—desperate little whimpers and gasps that go straight to my cock. I work her with my mouth, learning what makes her squirm and moan…and what makes her hands fist in my hair and pull.
"You taste so sweet," I murmur against her. "Could do this for hours."
Her toes curl, her feet sliding around on the bed. “God…”
“Somebody’s enjoying this…” I whisper, then tease her clit with my tongue before sucking it gently into my mouth.
Her whole body tenses, thighs shaking, and I know she’s tipping over that edge.
“Harlon!” she cries, as I continue to lick and suck and taste her with my tongue and lips, her body jerking and flexing with her orgasm.
I don't stop until she's pushing at my head, oversensitive and trembling.
When I crawl back up her body, she pulls me into a kiss that tastes like both of us. It's dirty and heady and everything I could ever want.
"That was even better than my dream," she says on a sigh.
I smile. “Glad I could deliver.”
We kiss lazily now, hands wandering, exploring each other. There's no urgency, just slow appreciation. I trace the curve of her hip, the soft swell of her breast. She mirrors my movements, her smaller hands sliding over the planes of my chest, the ridges of my abs, the scar on my shoulder from years ago.
"Where'd you get this?" she asks, fingers tracing the line of it.
"Bear encounter. I was nineteen and stupid."
"You fought a bear?"
