I moan again—the rawness of his tone, the press of his mouth, again and again.
I’m hot—so hot. And shaking, the feeling just too intense. I run my hands though my hair, touch my breasts, and then give in to the writhing pleasure building inside.
‘That’s it. That’s fucking it.’
But it isn’t. I want more. More tongue. More heat. More wet. I’m wild, and I’m greedy, rocking rhythmically against his tongue—a tongue that seems to know my body better than I know myself. It’s insane how good Kit is, how in tune he is with my movements and mewls. It’s like we’ve been fucking for months.
Wouldn’t that be something...
As my orgasm crawls down my spine, I arch my back, grinding into him and crying out his name. The feeling is intense, and the detonation real. I can’t remember coming like this. Ever. And what is that? Twice last night? Once more during the night when we sort of rolled into each other and sleepily screwed, falling back asleep almost immediately with his arms draped around him. That makes four orgasms in an eight-hour period.
Wow.
Mindandovaries blown.
I’m panting and almost on all fours now as Kit’s mouth slows then stills. His morning stubble drags against the soft skin of my inner thighs as he moves from beneath me. The abrasion is a sensory step too far as I whimper and collapse face first against the pillows.
‘Not yet you don’t.’ The levity in his voice is lost on me, though my mind picks up as he murmurs, ‘I’ve dreamt about fucking you like this. You on all fours as I watch myself sink into your sweet pussy, parting you like a ripe peach.’
‘You can’t keep saying these things to me.’ It has to be against the rules of the one-night stand handbook, if there is such a thing.
‘So I’m not allowed to tell you I want this, too?’
Both of his massive palms land on the cheeks of my ass, thumbs hooking inwards and spreading my cheeks.
‘No.’ I seem to draw the word out over several syllables.
‘Obviously, not today,’ he says, oh-so reasonably. ‘These things are best taken slowly.’
‘That,’ I sort of whisper-groan over my shoulder, ‘isn’t for thetakingat all.’
‘I’m not planning on taking it, honey bee. I’m talking about fucking it at some point.’
I close my mind to the possibilities thatsome pointandslowly,though strangely enough, skim over the part where he said he wanted to... to do that.
A physical impossibility with him, surely.
‘But for now, I just want to do this.’
One hand under me, he flips me onto my back, leaning over and gently moving the strands of hair that have covered my face.
‘You’re a wild wee thing,’ he murmurs as though talking to himself. ‘Fin was right about hidden depths.’
‘I’m not wild. It’s just my hair.’ I’m sedate. Professional. Sensible. I’m also not particularly wee, or small, either.
‘You keep tellin’ yourself that,’ he says, leaning over to the nightstand and grabbing a condom.
‘Do you always carry so many in your wallet?’ His wallet is flipped open, a small stack of foil packages spilling from underneath.
‘These were in my overnight bag.’ He can’t seem to keep the smile off his face. It irritates me irrationally.
‘You must’ve been planning on getting a lot of sex this weekend.’
‘Oh, I was,’ he answers cryptically, tearing the packet open and flicking it to the floor. ‘The only shame is I can’t stay the full weekend.’
‘Places to go, people to do, huh?’
‘The only one I’m doing is you. I did, after all, follow you here yesterday.’
