My fingers drifted lower to the waistband of his jeans, dipping inside the denim to explore the soft hairs beneath. A surprised gasp escaped my lips.
He smiled, encouraging me, but the material proved to be a frustrating barrier. He made no move to help me remove it.
Eager to explore, I touched him through the denim, pressing against his hardness. A low moan rumbled in his chest, a sound that vibrated through me, intensifying the ache between my legs.
I stroked him softly, then gradually increased the pressure, my fingers mimicking the rhythm my body craved. He grabbed my hand, a heavy sigh escaping his lips.
I looked up at him, my eyes locked with his. All I saw was pleasure and need, a reflection of the desire burning within me.
He stood up, his movements fluid and graceful. “Shoes,” he murmured, kicking them off. He then unbuttoned his pants, pushing them down his hips. “Jeans and jocks,” he added, a husky edge to his voice.
I gasped as his cock sprang free, thick and hot, pointing toward me. The need to touch him, to feel him against me, was undeniable. I reached out, my hand closing around him. The heat, hardness, and sheer size of him in my hand sent a wave of liquid heat pooling between my legs.
I needed him inside me.Now.
But instead, I lowered my head, my lips parting as I took him into my mouth. A long, guttural groan escaped his lips, his fingers tangling in my hair as I took him deeper, holding him tight, then pulling back slowly, deliberately. His breath hitched, and his body swayed slightly. My tongue flicked across the tip, savoring the salty taste.
He gently pushed me away, his eyes glazed with desire. I wanted more, wanted to taste him again, and he was already reaching for me.
“Shirt,” he said, his voice thick with need.
I knew what he meant. I slipped my shirt over my head, letting it slide down my arms as I sat back on the ground, my gaze fixed on him.
“Bra,” he murmured.
I knew that one, too, so I reached behind me, fumbling with the clasp, but my fingers were clumsy with anticipation.
He kneeled beside me, his hands brushing against my back as he easily unclipped the bra, releasing the pressure against my breasts. He dropped it onto my discarded shirt.
“Shorts,” he whispered, his fingers tracing the waistband.
He unbuttoned the front, then slowly pulled down the zipper, his fingers brushing against my mound, sending another wave of heat through me. He slid the shorts down my hips, his touch featherlight against my skin, then down my legs, where he slipped off my sandals.
He crawled toward me, our eyes locked, and kissed me again. Fire exploded within me, a burning need that consumed all thought. He pulled back slightly, his gaze dropping to the last piece of clothing I wore.
“Panties,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.
He hooked his fingers into the waistband of my panties, his touch sending a ripple of anticipation through me. He tugged them down, and I lifted my hips to help him, the cool earth a welcome contrast to the heat that bloomed across my skin.
He slid the panties slowly over my feet, his hands gliding back up my legs, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. He kissed the sensitive skin of my inner thighs, his lips sending shivers of delight through me.
Then, his lips found my most intimate folds, his touch so soft, so exquisite, that I stifled a scream as my body convulsed. I leaned back, my hands pressing into the soil behind me for support, as his tongue moved along my length, then dipped into my core.
A gasp escaped my lips, the tension building again, sharper, more urgent than before. I whimpered, my hips arching instinctively, wanting him inside me.
But he denied me, teasing me with his mouth, his tongue a swirling vortex of pleasure, until my mind blurred, my body trembling on the precipice of release. Then, the tension broke, a wave of pure bliss washing over me, leaving me weak and breathless.
I couldn’t take it anymore.
Driven by an instinct I couldn’t deny, I moved quickly, pushing him backward and straddling him, pinning his shoulders to the ground with my hands. I looked down at him, my eyes locked with his. His gaze was dark with desire, a mirror of the longing that consumed me.
He pushed up, his mouth finding my breast, his tongue circling my nipple, drawing it into a hard nub. The pleasure coiled within me again, tight and insistent.
I sighed, rocking my hips against him, the need to feel him inside me a burning ache. His mouth left my breast, and I reached between us, guiding his cock to my slick entrance.
He shivered as I pressed against him, but with a control that both frustrated and excited me, he held back. I teased him, rocking my hips, circling his tip, drawing out the anticipation until I couldn’t bear it any longer.
With a cry of delight, I plunged down, pushing him deep inside me. He stretched me, filled me completely, and I tilted my head back, my muscles clenching around him, intensifying the pleasure.
