She gasps, hands immediately going to my hair.
I take my time with this too. I know exactly what makes her breath catch, what makes her hips lift, what makes her say my namelike that. She tastes good and she’s already wet and I could do this for hours if we had hours.
But we don’t. So I focus, using everything I’ve learned about her body over the past weeks. Tongue and lips and the right amount of pressure in exactly the right place. Letting the scruff on my face scrape across her sensitive thighs. The thing I discovered two days ago where I suck while shaking my head just a bit, just enough to add sideways friction to the pressure of my mouth. I thought she’d actually ripped my hair out when I figured out that little party trick.
“Oh god—” Her thighs start to shake. “Don’t stop.”
I don’t. Just keep the same rhythm, the same pressure, until she’s crying out and falling apart against my mouth.
I gentle my movements as she comes down, pressing kisses to her inner thigh while she catches her breath.
“Okay,” she manages finally. “That’s—you’re very good at that.”
“I’m very motivated.”
She laughs, pulling me up to kiss her. She can taste herself on my mouth and doesn’t seem to care, just kisses me harder.
“Your turn,” she says against my lips.
“We have time?”
“We’re making time.”
She pushes me onto my back, strips off my shirt, works my boxer briefs down and off. Then she’s straddling me, looking down with that expression that always makes my brain short-circuit slightly.
“I can’t believe you’re leaving me for five days.”
“Four and a half.”
“That’s still too long.” She lifts up on her knees, reaches down to line us up. “I’m going to miss this.”
“Me too.”
She sinks down slowly, taking me in inch by inch until she’s fully seated. We both groan at the sensation.
“Fuck,” I manage. “Marnie?—”
“I know.” She braces her hands on my chest, starts moving. Slow at first, finding the rhythm. “I know.”
I grip her hips, helping guide her movements, watching the way her face changes as she rides me. She’s gorgeous like this—confident, in control, taking what she wants.
“Touch yourself,” I tell her.
She does, one hand sliding down between her legs while she keeps moving. The sight of it, combined with the feel of her around me, is almost too much.
“That’s it,” I encourage. “Show me.”
She moves faster, chasing her pleasure, and I help by lifting my hips to meet her movements. The angle changes slightly and she gasps.
“There—right there?—”
I keep the same angle, the same rhythm, feeling her start to tighten around me. She’s close again and so am I but I want her to finish first.
“Come on, Moxie. Let me see it.”
That does it. She cries out, body arching, and I feel her clench around me as she comes. It pushes me over too and I finish with a groan, holding her hips tight as I pulse inside her.
She collapses forward onto my chest, both of us breathing hard.
