Lucy
Dane moans low in his throat and immediately takes over the kiss, shifting to slip his hand under my towel. His fingers are cool against my hot skin, but that’s not the only reason I shiver as he drags the backs of his knuckles lazily up and down my stomach, between my breasts, then to the hollow of my collarbone.
With a tug, he pulls the towel off me and throws it to the ground, making another noise as he gazes over my body.
It makes me feel beautiful and wide-open, exposed and exhilarated. To be looked at like this, like I’m something precious and impossible all at once, makes me lightheaded.
He leans down to kiss me, and I rise up, shivering when my nipples brush against the fabric of his suit.
Dane kisses me slow and deep, one hand coming up to cradle the back of my head, the other still lingering below. He drags the back of his knuckles up the length of my abdomen, just brushing the bottoms of my breasts, then back down, glancing over my thighs, brushing my pubic hair, before beginning the path again.
It’s maddening, all the touching withouttouching. I want pressure from him, want more. I whine into his mouth and buck my hips up into his hand, trying to get him to press down, toslide a finger inside me—anything. If asked, I probably couldn’t articulate what I need, what I want, but I feel the ache for him like a gaping expanse in my chest.
When he grazes the inside of my thigh, I jerk up into him so I’m nearly sitting, letting out a sound close to a sob in his mouth.
That must break his resolve, because he pulls back, working his jaw.
“Turn around.” Those two words are a simple command that my body starts to obey before my brain can process it. I turn around, my knees sinking into the soft cushions of the couch.
Dane is behind me instantly, his mouth hot on the side of my neck, his arms encircling me, hands palming my breasts, which feel heavy now, needy and sensitive to the touch.
“I like looking at you,” he murmurs, removing one hand from me. I hear, faintly, the rustle of his pants falling to the floor, the ripping of a condom wrapper, and it sends an anticipatory shudder up the length of my body. “But this position can be better. I can touch you, you can touch yourself, we can go deeper?—”
I’m nothing but sounds and feelings, and I let out another choking gulp now, reaching for him, so desperate for his touch I could cry.
“Please,” I whisper, rocking my hips back into him, finding his boxers still in the way. “Show me, Dane.”
He hums, deep and long, the sound morphing into a moan as he takes my hands and plants them on the back of the couch, before dragging his palms down either side of my spine and gripping my hips, his hands massaging, his hips thrusting gently against me. I hear the faint rustle of his boxers falling, hitting the ground.
His cock is hard, and when I feel it bump against where I’m wet for him, I can practically swallow my heartbeat, all tangled up with the taste of him.Giddyisn’t the right word, but it’sthe only word that comes to mind to describe the desire and anticipation mounting inside me.
“Tell me when you’re ready,” Dane whispers, before leaning down and planting a kiss on my back. He follows that one with a smattering of kisses up around my shoulders and the back of my neck, and I’m so breathless from them that I can’t answer him for a long moment.
Then, finally, I gasp, “I’m ready.”
I wait for him to find me, to push inside, but he doesn’t. Instead, tightening his hands on my hips, he says, “Tell me you want me, Lucy.”
Another thrill races up my spine, and I rush to say it, “I need you, Dane. I need your cock, I want?—”
I’m not able to finish that thought, because Dane notches in my entrance, then pushes inside me in one smooth, full movement.
Gasping, I rock forward. It’s a stretch just to the point of pain, but no further, and he pauses, mercifully giving me a moment to adjust to him from this angle.
I’ve been using the toys—specifically the vibrating dildo he gave me—but that has felt nothing like this. He’s right—it is deeper, recreating that feeling from the plane and amplifying it by a million.
“Fuck,” I choke, and Dane growls, pulls out laboriously, his hands shaking on me from the effort of taking it slow. I lay my cheek against the back of the couch, breathing and moaning and letting out noises of pleasure that seem to make it harder for him to stay in control.
Then, he’s fucking me, his hand hot and massive on my back, his cock opening me up and building that pleasure. Even more than mine, more than that dizzying tightness in my lower belly, is how he shows how much he wants me.
The way he touches me, grabbing and massaging, caressing, reaching up to palm a breast then lowering his hand, finding me between my legs and running the pad of his finger over my clit, fast and loose.
“Touch yourself,” he commands, voice rough, and I do, replacing his hand with my own, letting out another near-sob at the combined pleasure of thatandhis length inside me.
I take all of him, and he murmurs his praises in my ear.You’re such a good girl,andtake my cock just like that, sweetheart, andI love how you look like this, bent over for me.
Between his grasping hand and his words, my desire starts to pant inside me, and I start to beg.
“Harder.”
