“Touch me, please,” I beg, widening the space between my legs.
“Soon, teacup,” he whispers, canting his head to watch my reactions before he draws the pebbled bud back into his mouth. His gaze holds mine over the curve of my breast as he grazes gently with his teeth.
“That feels ...” Immense. The wet velvet of his tongue, the threat of his teeth, and the teasing brush of his stubble make my nerve endings sing, makes me almost—
“Do you think you could come like this?”
—burst.
“I don’t ...” I gasp as my insides throb. “I don’t want to find out.”
Matt gives a dark chuckle, and I cry out, my hips surging as he swipes his thumb between my legs. “Maybe not this time.” His words like pure appreciation. “Fuck, you are a feast for the senses.”
I open my eyes to find him watching where he teases. Where he plays. His thumb dipping lower, gathering my wetness to paint it across my clit.
“Dios.”His eyes burn bright as he brings it to his mouth and sucks on it. “Me encanta el sabor de tu coño.And I do love the taste of your pussy, teacup,” he whispers as he leans across me, dragging a pillow from the top of the bed to support the arch of my back. “Lie back now and let me taste a little more.”
“You’re so sweet,” I whisper.
“And you taste like hot honey,” he says, pressing the rasp of his dark stubble to my inner thigh.
“Oh!” A bite, then a lick to soothe.
“Darlin’,” he says, pressing my legs wider. “I wish you could see how ready you are. How wet you are and how you pulse for me.”
I begin to twist under him, the thrill of his words, and the truth in them, when he circles my clit.
“Oh, Lord!” I almost levitate from the bed but for his fingers driving inside me, holding me there. My body offers him noresistance, my hips undulating to meet those slow thrusts as his tongue lavishes me as though I’m a taste to be savored. My fingers twist in those thick dark strands, anchoring him there as though I could keep him for good. Or at least until ...
Forever. I’d like to keep him forever,I think as a tear darts from the corner of my eyelid.
Matt
My beating heart and staccato breaths. The rustling of bedding as she pushes up onto one elbow, watching me strip. Her eyes fall to the curve of my bicep and the ladder of my abdominals as I run my fingers over them. And lower, over the dark trail of hair.
Down, down—she watches me take my jutting cock in my hand, and the thrill that runs through me feels almost seismic as she pushes my hand away.
“Let me.” Her fingers are cool on my scalding skin.
Take my cock. Take my hand. Let’s do this for the rest of our lives.
I never claimed to be a poet, but Christ, I can’t stop my body from shaking.
Does she notice, can she see what her touch does to me?
I can barely believe we’re here. Finally.Finally.This woman is everything to me.
“I love your hands on me,” I rasp, staring at the neutral polish on her nails as she presses her hand to my taut thigh. She draws it upward, inward, cupping my balls.
Oh, fuck. Marry me. Spend your life torturing and toying with me.
Keep it together, fucknut. Take the blow job and call it a win.
Only if I can keep her forever. Only if I can ...
Her tongue darts out to lick, and my body bows at the contact.
I growl her name as I slide my hand into her hair, moving it aside to better see. The gentle lap of her tongue against the thick ruddiness of my cock seems almost obscene. Not that I’m not straining, begging for more.
