He hooks his fingers in my underwear, slipping it down my hips.
Clint takes me in, then closes his eyes, breathing deeply as if to gain strength. After a moment, he opens his eyes again, getting up while keeping his hands on my hips. He touches his forehead to mine, then abruptly gets up and reaches for his clothes on the ground.
He pulls out his notebook, writing something down.
He turns it to me.I want to make you feel good.
I smile. “I do too. You, I mean.”
I already feel good. You don’t have to do anything.
I sit him down again and straddle his lap.
He groans. Even though it’s not really a sound—it’s more of a breath—it’s audible. Throaty. Deep.
He grips my thighs, his bulge pressing against my center. The cloth gently brushing against my clit has me whimpering already.
Clint removes his hands from me only to pick up the notebook.
Will you let me kiss you there?
I nearly come right then.
“Are you sure?” I ask him.
Never been more sure of anything in my life.
I bite my lip and his eyes darken. He kisses me again, deep and sure. When he pulls away, and when I nod, he lies back on the bed and urges me onto his face.
At the first lick of his tongue on me, he grips my hips tight with his fingers as I cry out his name.
He’s fumbling at first, but I realize this is the best position to be in, since I can guide him where to go.
But I realize we need to work out a system. As much as I don’t want him to stop, I gently tap his head.
When he lifts his face up I say, “Can we try…this means more?” I grasp his hair and tug. “And this faster?” I tug twice.
He gives me a wicked grin, nodding.
“What should mean slower? Or less?” I ask.
He takes my hand and gently presses my palm to his forehead.
“Okay,” I say. Then I tug his hair.
He grins and gets back to work.
“More,” I tell him when he moves with a pressure I like. “Faster” when I need him to.
He figures it out soon enough, looking up at me with each shift in movement. I nod, my mouth dropping open when he hits a flickering rhythm that makes me melt.
Soon I’m grinding myself against him, crying out his name, and in what feels like seconds, I’m coming hard, gripping his hair as I tell him not to stop.
When I’m done, panting, Clint’s eyes are heavy-lidded. He pulls his hands out and signs, “Keep going.”
The next time he knows just what to do, moving the way he did to make me scream.
I do it again and come again, stars in my eyes as I shudder over him.
