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“I want to,” I drawled, dragging my fingers down his shaft and back up with featherlight movements. “You got to taste me last time. You think I haven’t wanted the same?”
His cock twitched in my hand, excited for the attention, and he nodded once as he freed the last button of his shirt, exposing his chest for me. I pressed my lips to the tip of him, the little bead of precum coating them, and I licked it away. He tasted sweet, a hint of saltiness.
Slowly, I moved my head forward as I closed my lips around him, my hand meeting me halfway along the shaft. He kept his hand in place against the back of my head, guiding me gently, hesitant to thrust his hips. I pulled back to the tip, dragging my tongue across the soft, slick skin of him.
“Fucking hell, Sophie,” he grunted, the soft lines of his face contorting in pleasure as I looked up at him.
I retreated, just enough that a sticky strand of my saliva connected my lips to his cock, and grinned. “What?” I asked, my hand taking the place of my mouth and stroking him gently, a little twist at the tip and right back down.
His fingers twitched with restraint as he stroked my cheek, his jaw hard set, those deep green eyes staring straight into my soul. “You are perfect. Just fucking perfect.”
Butterflies stirred in my gut and I had to swallow the lump forming at the back of my throat. “Thank you,” I breathed, feeling that familiar sense of warmth as it flooded my cheekbones. Hudson was far, far too good at making me feel flustered.
“But even as perfect as you are, he started, his knees bending as he lowered himself to my level, “I don’t have the patience to wait.” His hands wrapped around the backs of my thighs, lifting me before pushing me back down, my lace-covered spine hitting the mattress with a soft thud.
“Hudson,” I breathed.
“Did you make this?” He asked, his knees hitting the floor, his head between my thighs. His lips slid against the thick, fleshy skin there, his hands ghosting over the fabric that covered my most intimate parts.
“No,” I whispered.
“Then it’s getting ruined, too.” He fisted the flimsy fabric at my waist, tugging swiftly downward until the little fibers holding the lace together snapped, tearing a hole in it. He kept pulling, kept destroying, snapping apart the lace until it could barely be called scraps, the loose strings dangling across my skin. The entire lower part of my abdomen was exposed, my parted legs bearing all, the bias tape along the edges the only thing still attached to my body.
My pulse quickened as he kissed his way closer to my center, his lips brushing little pieces of lace away, and as his tongue and lips met flesh, I nearly cried out. I held my breath to keep it in as he began to devour me, to eat me alive.
I wished I hadn’t worn the damn lingerie in the first place, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me feel sexy to have the shredded pieces of it lying across my skin, if I said it didn’t turn me on even more as I watched him pull at it again, exposing little parts of my breasts and nipples to the air. He seemed to enjoy it too based on his playful humming as he flicked his tongue across my clit, the fingers of his free hand teasing my entrance and coating themselves in my juices.
“Do you want me to make you come, Sophie?” He murmured, the little vibrations of his voice across my bundle of nerves making my back arch off the bed.
“I don’t… I’ve never come like this,” I breathed. I sunk my fingers into his hair, not wanting to admit that but trusting him to be the one to do it.
“You make it sound like it’s difficult,” he muttered. Slowly, two fingers slipped past my entrance, sinking into me. He curled them up at the tip, stroking that spot inside of me that made me feel like I was melting with annoyingly accurate precision. I clasped my hand over my mouth to contain the sounds that wanted to escape. “I guarantee you, it’s not.”
His tongue moved faster, matching the rhythm of his fingers, and holy shit it nearly felt as good as when his cock was inside of me. It had always felt nice—a good warm-up—but good god with him it felt like the main act. It was almost too good.
He worked me as his free hand slid across skin and silk, touching me just the right way to ignite my senses and make me squirm. Already, I could feel my orgasm building low in my stomach, threatening to pull me under with one perfect move. “Oh my fucking god,” I moaned, struggling to keep my breathing in check.
“I can feel you tightening around me.” He started moving a little faster, but his pressure stayed consistent, something I was thankful for. “Come for me, angel.”
My fingers tightened their grip on his hair, holding him fiercely against me as that dam began to burst, as my body flooded with pleasure so intense it rivaled the two orgasms he’d given me last time. I bit my tongue to hold back the scream that desperately wanted to crawl from my throat, the smallest taste of copper invading my mouth.
Slowly, he stilled, waiting until the waves had passed and my body had calmed to remove his fingers from me. “You taste so fucking good, Sophie,” he said, standing at his full height. His chin dripped, his lips soaked with a combination of his own saliva and me. He climbed on top of me, my body too loose to stop him if I wanted to. “Let me show you.”
He leaned down and kissed me, forcing my lips apart with a swipe of his tongue. The familiar taste of him was there, but there was also a lingering sweetness, not overwhelming like sugar but pleasant. Me.
The warmth of his arm beneath my shaking legs was welcome, and he suddenly shoved them up, pressing them against my chest as he lined himself up against my center. He broke the kiss, coming up for air, and with one quick push, he sunk himself so deeply inside of me I may have briefly forgotten my name.
This time I was ready for his girth, he’d stretched me enough from our previous romp. He slowly began to move. With each thrust, his hips met mine, the tip of his cock rubbing against that traitorous, blissful spot inside of me. His lips moved against my skin, over my thighs, calves, the spots on my chest he could reach with my legs up between us. He touched me like he couldn’t get enough of me, like I was a drug he was drawn to and couldn’t quit, and as his fingers found the spot between my thighs that made me feel like heaven, I could feel myself begin to build again.
“God, you feel so good when you squeeze me like that,” he breathed, slick hair stuck to the sides of his face from sweat and saliva. His fingers kept their pace, little circles over my too-sensitive clit, not daring to change in pressure or speed even as his thrusts became a little harder, a little faster.
My nails dug into the sides of his biceps as my body began to go rigid, my orgasm nearing its peak. I shakily let go with one hand and stuffed the side of my palm between my teeth, silencing the cry that I knew was going to come, that I knew I wouldn’t be able to control. Sure enough, as I began to break, the muffled scream seeped out around my hand, dulled and quiet enough so as not to wake Jamey.
“Fuck,” I squeaked, removing my hand when I was sure my voice was controllable. He slowed down enough for me to catch my breath, the touch of his fingers becoming lighter, and each little wave of pleasure that rolled through me felt coaxed out by him. “It’s too much. You’re too much.”
He laughed as his hips stuttered, his fingers retreating from between us. Before I could tell what he was doing, he pulled his cock from inside of me, wrapped his arms around my waist, and flipped me flat on my face. “Seems like I’m the perfect amount, Sophie,” he grunted, grabbing my hips and lifting them to his waist.
With another quick push, he was back inside, filling me to the brim.
