“I told you. I want to kiss you, but I’m going to wait for your consent.”
His hands haven’t stopped moving. They’re now under my shirt, on my belly, running up my waist, thumbs brushing just underneath my breasts.
He inclines his head.
“Use your words,” I whisper.
“Yes.”
“Yes, what? I want to hear you beg,” I can’t help but say.
He chuckles and leans in and tilts up instead.
He kisses like he carries himself. Graceful, gentle. Solid, self-assured. His lips are heaven, soft and firm, pressing against mine, learning every inch. My top lip, my bottom.
I lick the seam of his lips. He opens, and we both groan at the feel of the lazy slide of our tongues. A kiss with no real goal, not a race to the finish line, not a means to an end. A kiss for the sheer enjoyment of kissing. Tender, wanting. A dance.
A hand grips my waist harder, pulling me flush against him. Another slides into my hair, tugging slightly at the scalp. He tilts my head, opening me up further, his tongue going deeper.
“Yes,” I hiss. “More of that.”
“More hair pulling?” he murmurs, his lips straying to my jaw, my neck. It doesn’t matter anymore, anyway, because he’s distracted and I’m distracted and his hands have already moved back under my shirt, cupping my breasts, pushing them up and together, thumbs circling my nipples, and I’m arching into him while he runs his teeth along the edge of my jaw.
“I’m sorry,” he breathes into my skin. “I can’t focus on one thing,” he tells me, “you’re so fucking beautiful,” “I’m going out of my mind,” before he goes back to my mouth and curls his tongue around mine and pinches both of my nipples at the same time.
This is hot, yes, but also intimate, full of trust. An explosion, a dam releasing a flood of feeling, feelings that are more than just sheer lust, thirst, pleasure. It’s those things too, but also connection and yearning and truth.
This is the best kiss of my life.
My pussy’s still hollow, empty, but my heart is full as I hear the soft exhalations of his breath on my skin, the ocean crashing behind us. His hair is soft in my hands, the expanse of his shoulders solid and firm, the smooth skin and salty damp of his neck as I trace its lines with my tongue.
I can’t help it anymore. I roll my hips down, and he groans, a rumbling sound from deep in his chest, thrusting up, adjusting himself so his the thick length of him is right there, right where I need it. His hands are at my hips again and he’s moving me back and forth, his hips flexing, helping me grind.I could come like this, I realize with surprise. A moment later,I’m going to come like this. Someone moans, but our mouths are fused together again, so I’m not sure who it comes from.
Then, a vibration. Under my thigh. Between us. That’s not what coming feels like.
It doesn’t stop, and finally, in our daze, one of us realizes it’s a phone.
“Fuck,” he mutters, lifting me up and reaching into the pocket of his athletic shorts. He looks at the caller ID and clears his throat. “Hey,” he says in a hoarse voice, answering the phone, leaning his forehead against mine. I hear the tinny rumblings of Mama Flores while I lean back and map his face. He looks a little dazed. There’s a flush in his cheeks and his lips look impossibly bigger, swollen from my ministrations. A little mark I left on the sharp edge of his jaw. I circle it with my fingers. “Okay. I’m coming.”
After he hangs up, I think he’s going to pull away, but he does the opposite instead. He wraps me in his arms for a tight hug, kissing my temple, my cheek, the top of my head. I settle into the strong warmth of his body, hugging back, breathing him in.
“I’m sorry,” he finally whispers.
“Don’t apologize. Go.”
He looks up at me with eyes full of feeling and pulls me down by the neck again, for another swipe of the tongue, one last nip at my lip. He sighs and pulls away. “Do you need help putting the fire out?”
I eye him. “Are you asking me about the actual fire behind us or if I need help getting off?”
I’m glad I make him laugh, because it wipes that horridly serious, worried look right off his face. This man is beautiful and that was extremely fun and I’m elated and I just want him to feel the same way.
“I got it,” I reassure him. “Go.”
He reluctantly starts walking, then stops again. He turns around. “This feels weird. I don’t like walking away from you like this.”
“It’s okay, Dom. I understand. Frankie needs you. I’ll let you eat my ass later.”
His face falls. “I forgot to touch your ass,” he says, truly devastated. “I’ve wanted to, all week.”
