My fingers find their way into his hair of their own volition, tugging gently, commending his efforts. He clutches my hips in response, moaning as ifI’mthe one givinghimpleasure, when it’s the unwavering pace and friction of his tongue making my breath come in short, choppy pants as the pressure builds to a breaking point.
“Oh my god, Ryan, don’t stop, please don’t stop,” I ramble, my legs starting to quake.
His palm trails from my hip to my pelvis, pressing down to keep me still, and I realize belatedly that my hips are writhing, seeking more of the tongue he’s so generously lavishing me with. I can’t stop—my body on its own trajectory, unimpeded by rational thought. The sight of his solid forearm, roped with veins and muscles that strain as he holds me in place for his singular purpose, hurtles me over the edge.
My climax rolls through my body in a crescendo that swells as he only continues his skillful ministrations. My hips will no longer be caged, rising off the mattress as I cry out in a broken sob. But I vaguely notice his arm is no longer holding me, anyway—he’s moved it down to slip two thick fingers inside me. I’m still mid-orgasm, it’s impossible to feel anything better, but when he hooks his fingers, pressing firmly against my G-spot, I explode anew.
I gasp, a crackling sound, my body twisting despite beingattached to Ryan’s fingers and face, his pace continuous but gentling, letting me ride down the wave. I’m shaking all over, still spasming, so full of sensation that I don’t notice he’s pulled away until he’s back again a second later, eyes feral, mesmerized by the orgasm tearing through me. If he’s proud of himself, he should be. A-plus, Ryan. Gold star. 10/10, no notes.
Somewhere in the midst of this maniacal evaluation, I hear a low, vaguely familiar hum. I’ve barely resumed breathing when I feel Ryan thumbing my sensitized clit again, testing me out. It’s too much—it should be too much, right? I shouldn’t be circling my hips, seeking his hand yet again.Insatiable, you thirsty beast.But that’s exactly what I do, and I’m rewarded with the identity of that humming sound as I feel a sudden sting against my clit.
Not a sting—a vibration. My vibrator. On Ryan’s thumb, buzzing against my tender flesh and making my wide eyes fly to his.
He’s watching me raptly, pupils blown so big his eyes are practically black—the devil himself.
“I thought I’d die when I saw this in your room,” he says, his voice a low abrasion. “Imagining you making yourself come made me nearly climb out of my skin. Pictured using it on you myself. But nothing I pictured could compare to the real thing.”
If I could think straight, I’d realize this confirms my suspicion that he spied it on my nightstand back in…where was it? On Earth somewhere, anyway. A place I’ve long since vacated as his expert touch has catapulted me into the clouds.
Impossibly, pressure starts to build again.
“Wanted to know how you’d taste, how you’d feel as you came apart on my tongue.” He taps the vibrator against my clit as he inserts a finger again, teasing that spot inside me and causing my head to thrash against the mattress. “Fucking dreamed of making you scream.”
His words are what do it more than anything. This time the orgasm is so fierce, tearing through me so acutely that my backarches right off the bed. I cry out as my body bolts upright, bucking my hips against his hand, riding it hard even as it feels almost like too much. He leans forward, fluttering his tongue over my nipple before pinching it between his lips, doubling the onslaught of sensation and ripping the air right out of my lungs.
How? How is it possible to come three times in such close succession? If my brain could compute anything right now, I’d try to puzzle it out, but that equation will have to wait for its solution. Right now the organ in my head is busy perishing, causing my mouth to spout nonsense about Ryan’s skilled hands, his wasted talents, how I can’t believe he’s capable of this and been keeping it secret, how he should do this for a living instead.
Ryan seems to sense that I’m depleted—for now. He turns off the vibrator and gathers my slumped body into his arms, my heated skin against his. His scent is made stronger by his arousal, and my mouth seeks his in a deep kiss that tastes like the masterful things he just did to me.
I crawl onto his lap, feeling the rough chafe of his jeans against my inflamed flesh. The fact that he’s still wearing any clothes—particularly ones that restrict his sizeable erection—after everything he’s done to me feels cruel and unfair.
“Oh, Ryan.” I pout. “This is simply unacceptable.”
I reach between our bodies, cupping him through his jeans, earning a shaky exhale.
“You give me three orgasms before I even get to see your dick?” I tsk.
He’s breathing roughly as I unbutton his jeans and drag down his zipper. But suddenly my progress is halted, his hand stilling mine.
“I don’t have a condom,” he says. “I didn’t bring any on the trip.”
Because he didn’t expect to get his bones jumped. Never imagined we’d be obliterating boundaries in such grand fashion.
“My mouth is pretty talented too,” I say.
A noise escapes him that’s either a choke or a sob. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I know I don’t. But you’d like me to. Wouldn’t you?”
It’s like there are cactus needles in his throat, judging by the pained look on his face when he swallows. “That doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it does.”
The tortured look in his eyes causes clouds to gather behind my rib cage. I swallow down the emotion that has no business rising in my chest.
While he’s supposedly been dreaming of watching me come, I’ve been riding my vibrator for days, imagining his glorious erection. No chance it’s not coming out to play.
Plus, making sure he gets his due will help to reinforce that this is just a hookup. Mutually beneficial. Casual. Meaningless. Never to be thought of again after tonight.
