Both hands still under her dress, I guided her to the table and then lifted her so that she was sitting on the edge, pushing aside thestuff that was there. A vase tipped over and there was a glug of spilling water. She was breathless and wide-eyed in the semi-darkness, wondering what I was going to do next. I slid both hands down and hiked the dress the rest of the way up to her waist, baring those long, elegant legs.
I opened her thighs, going slow to make sure I didn’t hurt her hip. Then I stepped between her knees and cupped her through her panties.
Second best feeling in the world? The soft warmth of a pussy against your palm. I didn’t even have to move. Just the slight movement of her own breathing was enough to rub her lips against my hand through the thin fabric. And as soon as that started, that slow rasp wasn’t enough. She needed more, and she started subtly grinding against me to get it.
Bestfeeling in the world? A woman grinding herself against your palm, to show how much she wants you. I kissed her again, this time just using my lips to part hers and lettingherkissme.Her tongue slipped into my mouth immediately, eagerly seeking mine out. I began to rub her gently through her panties, the heel of my hand grinding against her clit with each stroke, and she moaned, the sound vibrating against my lips.
I pulled back a little, breaking the kiss, because I wanted to look at her. She was absolute perfection. Sitting there on the edge of the table, that silky white dress still halfway decent on top, but hiked up to her hips down below. Her legs wantonly spread. Her long, black hair silky but disheveled where I’d run my hands through it again and again. And those soft, pink lips parted in pleasure, her breath coming in quick little pants. She really could have been a fallen angel, seduced by the devil.
She reached for me, eyes still closed, focused on the feel of my hand between her thighs. She started to undo my shirt buttons, doing it by feel. It was the perfect opportunity to gaze at her uninterrupted. That gorgeous face, marred only temporarily by that bitch who’d fought her. I wouldn’t care even if those marks had lasted forever. She was perfect to me, no matter what.
My shirt came open. She leaned forward to kiss my chest and that moved her pussy against my hand. Both of us groaned. Then the soft touch of her lips against my pec. I caught my breath. She started to work her way down. When she licked at my nipple, I let out a growl. My cock felt as if it was going to rip right through my jeans.
I leaned forward, my mouth right next to her ear. “Does that feel good?” I ran my thumb across her pussy, strumming across the lips. I could feel her wetness soaking through her panties, but I wanted to hear her say it.
“Yesss!”
“Tell me what you want.” We hadn’t really done the dirty talk thing since the rooftop, but now I wanted more and more of it. The sound of her voice, low and throaty with excitement, was the ultimate turn on.
“I want you tonot stop,”she whispered, her breath hot against my spit-slick nipple. She ground even harder into my hand.
“Like this?” I sped up a little.
“Oh, God, likethat!”
“You’re wet. You’re soaking wet, Sylvie. I bet if I—” I couldn’t resist it any longer. I grabbed her panties with both hands and pulled them down around her knees, stepping back to give myself room. Then I speared two fingers up inside her, hard and fast. God, she was soaking, her inner walls hot and silken, almost dripping for me. She cried out and closed her thighs hard around my hand, trapping it there. I began to pump my fingers. “God, you’re so wet. Do you want it?” I pushed up against her leg, letting her feel the bulge at my crotch. “You wantthis?”
“Ah—Yes….”
I pumped faster, loving the feel of her, my long fingers sliding deep into her secret places. “Where? In your bedroom? On the couch?” I thrust faster still. “Where do you want me to fuck you, Sylvie?”
“R—Right here,” she gasped. “Right here on the table.”
35
SYLVIE
He stiffeneda little and I felt my cheeks flush. God, had I gotten carried away? Had that sounded really slutty? It was his fault, him and his damn Irish accent. I’d never been big on talking dirty before, but with his voice it was incredible. I looked up at him, expecting him to look shocked.
He didn’t look shocked. He looked more turned on than I’d ever seen him.
He stopped touching my pussy for the first time in what felt like hours and, as the cool air of the room hit my lips, I really felt how sopping I was down there. Sitting on the table edge, legs slightly apart, panties halfway down my thighs, I’d never felt so...wanton.Or so turned on.
His hands slid through my hair and he kissed me again, slow but deep. I felt his hands slide down my neck and then into the top of my dress and then he was reaching around, undoing the zipper with an expert hand. I felt the top of it loosen around my chest and my heart started hammering. I was already basically naked below the waist so I don’t know why it seemed like a big deal, but the feeling of being systematically stripped...I don’t know, it threw a switch somewhere in my brain. He pushed the dress off my shoulders and I felt the silkyfabric slither down around my waist. Then he was kissing down my neck, leaving a trail of fire all the way down to my collarbone, and my bra was pulling tight for a second. I caught my breath in anticipation.
There—the clasp came free and my bra loosened. His hands skimmed the straps off my arms and it fell onto my lap. My breasts ached and throbbed in the cool air of the apartment, begging for his touch, my nipples hardening as much from the feel of his gaze on them as from their sudden exposure. Then his hands were on them, squeezing them together and lifting them in slow circles so that the sensitive flesh rubbed against his palms. He kissed all around my open, panting mouth: my cheeks, my chin, my upper lip, always leaving my mouth itself alone so that I could moan out loud.
Then his mouth was on my breasts, his tongue lapping at my nipples and swirling around them. He was just the right mixture of smooth and deliciously rough. First he’d kiss and lick at me, working his way inward across the breast to my nipple. Then he’d swirl his tongue around it in spirals, drawing it up to a quivering peak. And finally he’d bite gently at me, using his own lips as cushions over his teeth, until my feet were twisting together in circles and my nails were digging into the table top.
And then he’d do it all over again. It went on and on, lifting me closer and closer to my peak.
By the time he stopped, my breasts were shining and my hands were buried in that thick, dark Irish hair, dragging his head to me. I was trembling from being on the brink of an orgasm for so long. When he stepped back, I just sat there staring up at him, incapable of speech.
“I want you to come,” he growled. “But I want to be in you. I want to feel it.”
Oh Jesus yes!
He drew my panties down my legs and off, then tossed them away. He stepped between my legs, knocking them apart a little farther with his hips. Then he undid his belt and let his jeans slide down. The shape of him was clear through his jockey shorts and, a second later, it was there in his hand, thick and long and pointing right upbetween my spread thighs. He stared right at me as he took a condom from his pocket and rolled it on. I stared down at myself as he came closer and closer, watching the tip of him approaching me. I wasn’t used to being able to see it like this, to actually watch as he—Oh God!The head of him pushed between my folds, spreading them. I felt myself opened up. It was different, like this, everything felt—Ah!He slid inside me, the girth of him stretching me just a little, making me grab for his shoulders. Everything felt different. And goddamngreat.
