Phil’s stomach pulled tight as the spot between her legs pulsed with anticipation. Lifting herself up on her elbows, she peered down as Jamal lowered his head between her legs. She let out a small cry at the first wet swipe of his tongue. With unforgiving relentlessness, he worked his tongue up and down, pleasuring her with every decadent stroke. He swirled the tip around her clitoris, flicking in rapid succession before drawing it between his lips.
Phil clutched his head in her hand and cried up at the sky, lifting her lower body off the ground and giving herself over to his demanding tongue. Tremors racked her as the orgasm that had been building erupted.
She fell limply back into the trampled grass, her limbs relaxing in satisfied relief. The butterflies in her belly started swarming again as Jamal traveled back up her body, dropping light kisses along her torso. He hovered over her, smears of blue paint tracking across his chest from where he’d rubbed against her.
“What does the drill sergeant want me to do next?” he asked.
Phil contemplated his question for a moment before saying, “Lie down.”
He complied, mirroring her pose in the grass. She summoned the strength to push herself up and reached for the brush and palette, but Jamal caught her arm and shook his head.
“I think we’ve done enough painting for today,” he said.
“What is it you want me to do, then?”
The gleam in his eye told her exactly what he wanted.
Nervous excitement trembled low in her belly. There were certain things she didn’t do with a man unless she trusted him implicitly. She wasn’t sure when she’d begun to trust Jamal, but she did. And she wanted to do this for him.
He rose on one elbow and cradled her cheek in his palm. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, Phylicia.”
She captured his hand and removed it from her face, brushing her lips across the back of his fingers. Then, with a hand to his chest, she eased him back onto the grass.
Jamal’s eyelids lowered halfway, and a slightly dazed look came over his face as she straddled his lower legs. Phil licked her lips before she bent over and pulled his thickening erection into her mouth. She heard his swift intake of breath, felt the shudder that quaked through him.
With unhurried movements, she worked her mouth up and down the length of him, running her tongue along the ridge of skin that rimmed the head, licking the spurt of pre-cum that dripped from the tip. She relaxed her jaws so she could open wider, lowering her head until he hit the back of her throat, then sucking hard as she glided her mouth back up.
Jamal cupped her head as he guided her up and down. His eyes shut tight, he pitched his head back, his groans echoing around the vacant meadow.
“Phylicia,” he said with a strained whisper.
Phil drew him into her mouth over and over again, giving extra attention to the smooth head, wrapping her tongue around it. She sensed his balls drawing tight and, moments later, felt the rush of salty liquid hit the back of her throat as he erupted in her mouth.
“Damn,” Jamal breathed. He pulled in several deep breaths, his chest rising and falling. “That was a hell of a lot better than watching you paint.”
Phil grinned as she enveloped his softening erection in her palm. She glided her hand up and down his smooth length, a heady sense of power building within her as she felt it grow hard again.
She lowered her head to take him into her mouth once more, but Jamal stopped her.
“No,” he said. “In my pocket. There’s a condom in my wallet.”
Phil reached for the shorts he’d shucked off earlier and lifted the wallet from the back pocket. She opened it and pulled out a condom. Tearing the packet open, she rolled the latex down his now-stiff erection, her hands shaking. She straddled his hips and, like a woman desperate for her next breath, sank onto him.
Jamal cradled her waist, guiding her up and down. Phil splayed her palms flat over his muscled chest and gripped, trying to find purchase on top of him. With fevered pumping, she rode him hard, her entire being erupting in a swift, pleasure-soaked orgasm that tore a scream from her throat and sent her crashing down on top of him.
They lay in the grass completely spent, their ragged breathing the only sound around them.
Jamal trailed his finger in a gentle caress along Phylicia’s arm, starting from her shoulder and ending at her wrist. He couldn’t stop touching her. If he had it his way, he’d take her back to his house and spend the next week gaining intimate knowledge of every delicious inch of her body.
“Which room was yours?” he asked her.
He’d spent the past hour learning more about her years growing up at Belle Maison. He’d never seen her more open and animated as she talked about her childhood there. But there was also a trace of sadness that lingered over her words, a forlornness that made him ache for her.
“I had the upstairs room that overlooks the front lawn, though I slept in the one with the balcony during the fall. I loved sleeping with the French doors open because of the breeze and the sound of the cicadas.”
“That’s why you wanted to make love out here. You like the sounds of nature.”
“May I remind you thatyouare the one who initiated that?” she asked.
