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She stands still, looking around, and although I can tell she’s admiring the room, she doesn’t say a word. I wonder if nerves have stolen her voice, but I don’t ask. This isn’t the time for questions like that.
I close the door again and, keeping hold of her hand, I lead her to the far side of the room. Beside the window – which is open, letting in a gentle evening breeze – there’s a wide, full-length mirror. It’s free-standing and leans back, just slightly, against the wall. I stand Livia in front of it, facing me, and keeping my eyes fixed on hers, I slowly undo the buttons on her blouse. Her breathing is unsteady, like she keeps forgetting and then suddenly remembers. I know how that feels. It was what happened to me when I first saw her. Her lips are parted and the bottom one is trembling, but I can tell it’s with excitement, not fear, just from the sparkle in her eyes.
When the last button is undone, I push the blouse from her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor, and then kneel before her, unfastening her jeans. They’re tight and I have to tug to pull them down, raising my hand for her to hold while she steps out of them. She’s not wearing anything on her feet, and I push her clothes aside and then stand, turning her to face the mirror.
I’m behind her, looking at her over her shoulder, and I kiss her neck.
“You’re beautiful,” I whisper, raising my head and looking at her in the mirror.
She blushes and I smile, kissing her neck again. Her breath hitches in her throat and I feel her pulse quicken beneath my lips.
Standing upright again, I take a half step back and pull my t-shirt off over my head before reaching out and unclipping the fastenings of her bra. Then I pull the straps from her shoulders and drop it to the floor, reaching around in front of her and cupping her firm breasts.
I look at her in the mirror again. She’s studying my movements, but then raises her face, her eyes locking on mine. “You fit my hands perfectly.” She nods her head, her eyes alight. “You like that? You like my hands on you?”
“Y—Yes. How can you tell?”
“Because your nipples are so hard.”
I pull my hands away, revealing her pebble-hard nipples, and I capture them between my thumbs and forefingers, tweaking them gently. Livia gasps, her head rocking back.
“W—What just happened?” she says.
“I don’t know.” I kiss her neck again. “Describe it to me.”
“It… it was like a shock of electricity rushing through my body.”
I tweak her nipples again, eliciting the same reaction. “Like that, you mean?”
“Yes. How did you do that?”
“I didn’t. That was all you.”
She lets her head fall back, resting it against me, although she keeps her eyes fixed on mine the entire time, while I pinch and squeeze her dark pink nipples, until she’s breathless and squirming against me.
I let my right hand wander slowly downwards, over her flat stomach to the top of her white lace panties, my fingers delving inside. Livia sucks in a sharp breath, breaking eye contact with me and watching the progress of my movements in the mirror.
“You’re so wet,” I murmur in her ear, kissing her neck still, as I slide my fingers between her soaking folds, brushing them over her swollen clit. She bucks against me, and then slowly grinds her hips as I circle around that precious pearl.
I alternate the pressure; hard and soft. I change the tempo; quick, then slow. Her breathing becomes ragged, and she parts her feet, shuddering against me as she reaches up and back, clasping her hands behind my neck.
I move my left hand over, clamping it around her right breast so I can hold her up. “It’s okay, babe. I’ve got you.”
She raises her eyes to mine, and that seems to be enough to tip her over the edge, her body surrendering to a crescendo of pleasure.
“Hun… Hun… ter. Oh, yes! Please… yes…”
She writhes against me, and I take her weight, holding her body tight to mine as she convulses through a shattering orgasm.
Calm returns in slow stages, her limbs still twitching, and I wait until I know she can support herself before I pull my hand from her panties and let her go. Our eyes are locked, and keeping them that way, I raise my hand, sucking on my fingers, one at a time, licking them clean. She gazes at me, hypnotized by my movements, before she releases her hands from behind my neck. I don’t know what she’s got in mind, but before she can turn, I move around in front of her, momentarily blocking her view in the mirror. She looks up into my eyes, still a little breathless, and while a part of me wants to ask if she’s okay – if she’s ready for the next step – this doesn’t feel like the time for conversation. She knows she can ask me to stop, if she wants to, so I gaze into her eyes for maybe ten or twenty seconds, and then without a word, I kneel.
I’m still looking up into her perfect face, even as I place my thumbs in the top of her panties and slowly pull them down. She steps out and I push them aside, finally lowering my gaze to the most beautiful sight before me.
She has a triangle of neatly trimmed blonde hair, through which I can see her swollen, glistening lips. I shimmy forward and raise my hands, using my fingers to expose her, and then I lean in and gently lick her clit.
“Oh, God…”
She parts her legs, clearly wanting more, and I oblige, flicking my tongue over her again as I raise her left leg, putting it up on my shoulder to give me better access, so I can lick, suck, and gently bite on her.
