He guides me back onto the bed, following me down with kisses that make my toes curl. When his mouth finds my breast, I arch up into him, begging for more.
His hands and mouth worship me with a patience I've never experienced before. Every kiss is deliberate, every touch focused on my pleasure rather than rushing toward some goal. He trails kisses down my stomach. Then he settles between my thighs, and I have to close my eyes at the intensity of his gaze.
“Spread those legs, sunshine,” he says with a gruff determination.
The first touch of his tongue makes me cry out, and my back arches off the bed. He's gentle but thorough, learning what makes me gasp, what makes me grip the sheets. And in no time, between his fingers, lips, and tongue, all fighting for my pleasure, my insides begin to clench.
“I'm close,” I gasp, surprising myself.
“Good. Let go for me.”
When the orgasm hits, it's like nothing I've ever felt. Wave after wave of pleasure crashes over me, and Brandon works me through all of it, his mouth never stopping until I'm boneless and shaking.
“That was…” I start, but I can't find words.
“I need to be inside you now,” he says with a hint of urgency as he presses a kiss to my inner thigh.
“Wait,” I tell him as he moves up my body, kissing me softly. “I want to do that for you.”
“You don't have to?—”
“I want to.” I push against his chest until he's on his back. “But I should probably warn you, I'm not very experienced with that.”
His eyes soften. “We'll go slow.”
I work his pants off with hands that shake slightly from nerves and anticipation. When he's left in just his boxer briefs, I take a moment to appreciate him. He's beautiful, all lean muscle and golden skin. I admire the defined ridges of his abs, the curve of his biceps, and the broad expanse of his chest. His body is a work of art.
My eyes travel lower, and I see how much he wants me, the hard length of him straining against the dark fabric. The sight makes my core ache with renewed need.
“Touch me, Stella,” he says, his voice strained.
I hook my fingers in the waistband of his briefs and pull them down, freeing him completely. He's impressive, and the knowledge that this is mine, that he's this hard for me, makes me feel powerful in a way I've never experienced before.
I wrap my hand around him tentatively, marveling at the contrast of soft skin over steel. He groans, and his head falls back against the pillow.
“Like this?” I ask, stroking him slowly.
“Grip me tighter, like this.” He wraps his hand around mine and guides me up and down his thick shaft. Precum starts to leak out of his tip, and I rub my thumb across it, smearing it as I learn the pressure and pace he likes.
“Lick it,” he tells me. When I lean down to taste him, he makes a sound that goes straight to my core.
“Stella, fuck?—”
I pull back. “Good?”
“So good.” He brings his thumb to my mouth and pulls down my bottom lip. “Open for me, Stella.”
My mouth slides over his tip, and he guides his cock into me gently, teaching me what he likes without making me feel foolish. His responses are immediate and honest, and I find myself getting lost in the power of it, in how I can make this strong, confident man fall apart with just my mouth.
“You're incredible at this,” he pants. “So fucking good.”
The praise makes me bold, and I take him deeper, loving how he trembles beneath me. I'm actually enjoying this, which is a revelation. One hand grips the base of him, helping me guide him in and out of my mouth, while his other hand is tangled in my hair. I can feel his arms tense, like he's trying to hold back, trying to be gentle.
“I'm close,” he warns. “Lay on your back.”
I pull back, and he flips me on the bed and finishes over me, across my stomach and chest, his release warm on my skin.
“Oh, fuck, Stella.” He leans down to kiss me, careful not to make more of a mess. “That was fucking incredible. Your mouth is going to be the death of me.”
