There was nothing arm’s length about this. This was everything she’d hoped for in her most secret heart. It had no chance of ending well, not in the long run, but for tonight? There was a chance.
“I want to make love to you,” he said, his lips so close to her own she could taste his breath. “I’d wanted to before, but nothing like tonight. When I watched you drive away, I couldn’t get it out of my head.”
“It’s crazy.”
“So what?”
“I…We…Damn,” she said, then she kissed him again, knowing the millisecond had passed when she could have sent him home.
The difficulty was keeping the momentum going. If she stopped for the slightest thing she knew she’d find a hundred reasons why she was out of her mind. Clearly, her only choice was to not stop.
She began by moving them closer to the living room. No bedroom, no bed. The couch was fine. Once there, she slipped her hands between them and began to unbutton her blouse. It wasn’t easy, but she managed to keep their lips together as she slipped the blouse off, as her hands went to the clasp of her bra.
To his credit, he seemed to understand the whole momentum thing. His hands got busy divesting himself of his shirt in the quickest way possible, then pants, although for that they had to coordinate and bend down as a team.
Dancing. It was all dancing, and she supplied her own music. A tango, of course. There should have been violins and guitars, but her heartbeat would do, that and the sound of breathing, of too-quick inhalations, long held desperate gasps.
Then it all came to a crashing halt.
“What?” he asked, but it sounded like a curse.
“I don’t have a condom.”
“I do.”
“Where?”
“Pocket.”
“Thank God.” She found his mouth and they dropped the final garments in their separate heaps. It wasn’t the most comfortable thing to wait while he found his pocket and the permission-giving condom, but worth it. He pulled her close again as he rose, laughing in triumph even as they continued to kiss.
“Don’t think,” he said, running his hand down her back so lightly she shivered. “Just feel.”
She let him carry her down to the couch, her thigh brushing against his erection. Of course once she was sitting and he stood right in front of her, she had a whole new perspective on things. First, she completely got it that Paul’s enthusiasm wasn’t intellectual. His erection was impressive. When she could tear her gaze away and look at his naked chest, shoulders, arms and then that face…all she could do was drop her head in her hands.
There was a thump, then his hands were on her knees. She peeked to find him kneeling. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s no good. You’re just too damn pretty.”
“You’re thinking again. That’s not allowed.”
She opened her mouth, but he stole her argument by easing her thighs apart.
“Because you’re having a difficult time with this concept, I’m going to help you.”
Again she tried, but he stopped her with a look. Normally, glares wouldn’t shut her up, but his was accompanied by his hands lifting up her legs and slipping them on his shoulders.
“You’re allowed to make all the noise you like.” He leaned forward, adjusting her position and his. “But no words. In fact, I’m going to make sure you lose the power of speech altogether. So sit back and relax. Let me make you happy.”
Naturally, all she wanted was to argue. Until his fingers brushed up her thighs. When he got to the end of the road, he stroked her pussy gently. She closed her eyes as his breath warmed her delicate skin. Her head went back, her hands clutched the couch cushions. He won. So it wasn’t her life. She might as well enjoy herself.
The warm breath on the very edge of her thighs narrowed and then it was lips. The tip of his tongue, licking, nipping.
A fingertip slid slightly inside her, moving slowly, just teasing her with the promise of things to come. He nibbled one thigh, then the other, increasing the pressure against her clit so slowly she had to thrust up against him.
He moaned at the movement, rewarding her by concentrating on the one spot with tiny circles.
The nibbles stopped. He used both thumbs to spread her open. She held her breath as he found her clit with the hardened tip of his tongue.
Gwen gasped and her hands moved to the back of his head, fingers running through his thick, dark hair. It was as silky as she’d imagined, but she couldn’t focus on him for long. Not while he was doing such incredible things to her.
It had always amazed her how men loved to do this. At least most of the men in her life. She’d never questioned her luck, just accepted it as a delightful bonus. Paul’s low moans, his careful attention, his expertise told her this was a treat for both of them.
She just wished she could touch more of him. That body of his called to her. There was so much to explore, so many perfect parts. God, to cup that ass.
He sucked her clit between his lips. Sucked hard. It was an incredible sensation, one that made her cry out, clutch his hair. Straining now, feeling the magic start deep in her body. There was nothing else now but this, needing to come.
He captured her nub between his teeth and flicked the tip of his tongue right there, fast, like a humming-bird’s wings.
She let go of him to steady herself as her orgasm broke inside her, touching every muscle, making her see spots behind her closed lids.
She cried out, riding the wave, clutching his head between her thighs. Seconds went by in absolute bliss, then she shifted her butt, away from his tongue, her sensitivity off the scale.
When she opened her eyes, he was staring up at her, pleased with himself, with her. As she watched, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then stood.
His cock glistened, his excitement as clear in his eyes as it was in his jutting erection.
“Sit down,” she said.
He didn’t question her, which was a good thing. It was her turn to stand. The first thing she did was find the condom. It was on the floor next to her foot. She ripped it open, but didn’t put it on him, yet.
Still quivering, she settled before him. He looked unbelievable, sitting on her couch, his legs spread arrogantly wide, his hips thrusting, his chest heaving. But his gaze made her look away.
She brushed her hands up his legs and thighs until she was able to hold him with both hands. One around his shaft, the other cupping his balls. All she wanted now was to learn the feel of him. To stroke him, to lose herself in texture and heat.
His moan made her glance up. His head had gone back, his mouth slightly open. Her body relaxed as she played with him.
Soon, touching him wasn’t enough. She took his crown in her mouth, holding him for a long moment. Then she swirled her tongue.
The sound he made accompanied a tremor, a stiffening of his body, and not just the part she had between her lips. He thrust just a little. She could feel his struggle as he held himself in check.
The taste of him was as unique as his scent. His noises just as singular. She closed her eyes as she licked him, long strokes with the flat of her tongue, all the way down, then switching her hands to his cock as she licked his balls which seemed to please