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“Jesus, you’re beautiful,” he whispers, still motionless.
He takes one tentative step forward, then another.
“Can I touch you?” he asks, reaching out, curling his fingers around the back of my neck, his thumb across my jaw.
“Please,” I whisper back, a shiver snaking through my body, carrying pure heat with it.
“Here?” he asks, sliding a finger under my bra strap, a slight smile tugging at his mouth.
“Yes,” I answer.
His hand continues down, over my stiff nipple, sliding down my belly.
“Here?” he rumbles.
“Caleb,” I say, stepping forward into him, my hands on the warm hard flesh of his torso. “Touch me anywhere you want.”
With that, his lips crash into mine, needy and powerful, and I’m in his arms so hard I can barely breathe. He touches me and groans, the noise low and deep in his chest, and I slide my hand down and find his erection as it throbs against me and I squeeze him through his pants from tip to root and he pulls away from the kiss, panting, his lips to my ear.
Then my bra is off. I’m still stroking his cock as he pushes me backward, and then I’m against the bed and then I’m on the bed and he’s on top of me, between my legs, his erection right against my clit so that every pulse of his hips sends a jolt of pleasure through me. He holds himself up on one elbow and kisses me feverishly and rolls my nipple between his fingers, palming it, pinching.
He shifts, kneels. I lock my legs around his hips and squeeze, and I reach down into his pants and when I grab his cock he presses his face into my neck, biting me softly as he groans. We rock together, our hips bucking in time, my hand stroking him.
Finally, he shifts again, and this time he’s upright on his knees, still between my legs as I lie back on the bed, and he hooks one of my knees over his shoulder, turns his head, kisses the inside of my knee.
With his other hand, he skims his thumb over the thin fabric of my panties, his light heat on my lips and clit, the fabric probably soaked through.
“Anywhere?” he says.
“Anywhere,” I say, and before the word is out of my mouth he’s sliding my panties off, both legs in the air, and then he’s pushing me further onto the bed and grinning like he just won the lottery.
Fingers brush my lips, teasing them, pushing them apart, exploring the length of my slit as Caleb drops a single kiss on my belly, next to my belly button, then another on the curve of my hipbone.
I inhale and just as I do, his tongue finds my clit at the exact same time that his fingers slide inside me.
I make a noise. It’s half moan and half grunt and half shout and it’s loud, and Caleb digs his fingers into the soft flesh of my inner thigh and doesn’t slow down.
His tongue circles, flicks, laps, and I don’t know what exactly he’s doing but it feels incredible, his fingers inside me stroking my sensitive inner wall in the exact same rhythm.
It doesn’t take long. With every stroke, soon my whole body is trembling, both hands fisted in his comforter, my back arched, my head to one side as I whimper and moan and say things like oh my God that feels so good.
I come hard and fast, my body an unstoppable rush as I shout oh! oh! oh! again and again until I regain my senses, panting for breath, in a haze of satiety. Caleb pulls his fingers out and kisses the inside of my thigh again, my hip, my belly. He briefly sucks one nipple into his mouth and swirls his tongue around it, moving my legs around his hips.
“Turns out the answer is sexy as all hell,” he says, leaning over me, taking my mouth again in a kiss. He tastes like me, but it’s not off-putting.
It’s actually kind of hot, like I’ve claimed him.
“What answer?”
“To what you sound like when you come,” he says, as if it’s obvious. “I told you I wanted to find out the night we first met.”
I kiss him harder, my tongue in his mouth. I snake my hand downward, realize he’s still wearing pants.
“Get these off,” I order.
“I’ll need a proper data set of your orgasms, of course,” he says, standing on his knees, pushing his pants and boxers over his hips, releasing his cock.
Hypothesis confirmed: it’s very big.
“And we’ll need to control for variables, obviously,” he goes on, that rakish smile back on his lips. “It’s not as if I can compare the second or third orgasm in a session to the first.”
I push myself up on my hands, look up at him as he pulls his pants the rest of the way off, tosses them on the floor behind the bed.
