“Soph, I want to bend you over this table, pull down your shorts, andfuck.” My voice is so low, I almost don’t recognize it.
“They’ll be gone for at least forty-five minutes. And Mabel is taking her afternoon nap. Do it.Please,”she begs.
I look around the room; the drapes and blinds are all closed.
Decided, I grip the hem of her shorts as she stands, and they puddle around her ankles.
“Bend over.”
When she does, I urge her legs apart. Because I’m seated, she’s only inches from my face. The thong remains, but other than that, she’s all skin. Pressing my palms to her ass, I rub circles in the soft flesh. Spreading them wide to reveal the thin strap of fabric running down her seam. It’s black satin and lace.
Leaning forward, I flattened my tongue against the fabric at her sex. Humming, I add pressure, and she all but detonates.
“Ever,fuck, that’s...” she trails off like words have escaped her.
Slowly, I drag my tongue along skin and lace until I reach the waistband. My stubble is a rasp that leaves her pink. Her entire body shivers, and the sound that comes out of her is new.
“You like that?” I ask, even though it’s obvious she does. I’m greedy and want to hear it.
Her cheek flat against the table, she’s short of breath when she quietly says, “Yes.”
Sliding her panties down, I ask, “Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” she repeats without hesitation.
I stand, dropping my shorts and underwear to the ground, and run my palms along her back, pushing the loose fabric of her cropped shirt out of the way. “You are so fucking beautiful,” I say before kissing a path from her shoulder blade to the dip of herhip. Every time my lips make contact, it evokes a tiny movement from her, like the wait is driving her wild.
Gripping myself, I run the pad of my thumb through the bead of pre-cum. Instead of edging in like I desperately want to, I press my glistening thumb to her instead and trace the same path my tongue did over her thong. She lifts up on her toes and her back arches. “Fuck, fuck,fuck,” she whispers.
“Are you always this wet?” I ask, plunging a finger inside.
“No.” She stretches her arms out searching for the table’s edge to grab on to. “This is all you.”
Fucking hell, I can’t wait anymore. Slipping my finger out, I nudge only the tip of my cock in.
“More, Ever.I need more,” she begs.
Obeying, I sink in until I’m buried to the hilt.
She gasps a breathless, “That,” and her inner walls clamp deliciously around me.
Closing my eyes, I focus on sensations: slick warmth, pulsing blood, and pure want that makes me dizzy. It’s desire that’s reckless and all-consuming and demanding like I’ve never experienced with any partner before. “You feel like nothing else, Soph.”
As the crescendo builds, I open my eyes, suck the finger I had inside her a few minutes ago into my mouth, and grip her ass cheek with the other hand to expose her to me.
When I stroke my wet fingertip over the sensitive bundle of nerves, she sucks in a breath. And holds it.
“Do you want me to stop?” I ask, cautiously.
She pauses and exhales. “No.” She sounds curious and turned on, and it only edges me closer to spilling inside her.
When I stroke her again with more pressure, I ask, “Have you ever been touched here?”
Her nails scratch the tabletop as her hands ball into fists, knuckles white, the need for release torturing her like it is me. “No.God, why does this feel so fucking good?”
“What if I could make it feel better?” I tease.
“Impossible,” she whispers.
