He doesn’t need an answer, but I give him on anyway, lifting my hips from the bed as a dark, captivating ache courses through my insides. And I couldn’t hold back the sounds of my pleasure even if I wanted to as his finger slides along my length, gathering my wetness to paint it against the swollen nub.
‘Please, Greg, please.’My breath is short, and my throat is hoarse, my hands scrabbling against the bedding as my hips chase his touch.
‘You taste so good.’Goodslides into a growl, and I lift my head from the mattress to look down at him, watching as he pulls his finger from his sinful mouth. ‘So good.’
The realisation that he’s tasting and touching sets off a series of tiny explosions, my insides desperate and greedy for him.
‘I want to touch you.’
‘Soon, darlin’. Soon.’
‘I want you in my mouth.’
A groaning expletive bursts free from my chest as his mouth finds my centre, the heat from his tongue causing me to writhe and gasp. My breath comes out in sharp, choppy sounds as he just buries himself there—buries himself between my legs. His tongue strokes and flicks, the full flat of his tongue lapping at my clit. His whole mouth sucking greedily as his fingers spread me wide.
‘I’m fucking mad for you.’ The sensation of his growling words against my heated centre ricochets right through me, the sensation like nothing else. It drives me to the kind of mindless place where I’d let him eat me inside and out—where I’d let him devour me, if he could, leaving behind only my dust and bones. It’s a heady place, a startling headspace. A place so needful and blind, it’s almost frightening to feel myself give in.
But give in I do.
His hair tangled between my fingertips, I rock against him. The sounds of my pleasure so wild and so feral, I don’t recognise my own voice. As I reach my peak—no, my breaking point— Greg thrusts his fingers deep inside, his mouth fully enveloping my clit.
Sucking. Licking. Lapping.
I buck against the weight of his body as he pins me, forcing me to closer and closer to that edge. I’m gasping, chanting his name, and coming hard, my hands balled into the duvet, my hips levitating from the bed. I’ve never wanted anything as badly as I want him inside me right now. He climbs up my body, then hesitates for a moment, his face shadowed as moonlight plays across his skin of his chest.
I think I could love him.
‘I need to grab a condom.’ As he makes to move, I catch his wrist.Wrap my legs around him.
‘I want to feel you. Nothing between us, skin to skin.’
And without a word or a quip or a question, he dips and, with a single thrust, pushes the breath from my body as he seats himself deep inside.
Everything outside of this moment ceases to exist. There is nothing else but the feel of him filling me and the rhythm of his thrusts. I moan and buck wildly against him as the intensity builds. I can’t think. About anything. Not about tomorrow or about leaving him. Not as my mind and body explodes. I arch my back, grinding up into him and crying out my desperation and need. Everything dies around me, covered in white as I give into the most intense, writhing kind of pleasure. Above me, Greg whispers how good this feels. How beautiful I am. How I’ll be the end of him. He pulses once, twice. And the sound he makes? Like a lament as he whispers I’m not his to keep.
