He replaces his fingers with his mouth, the heat of it a shocking contrast to the cool air. My back arches off the bed, a sound escaping me that I barely recognize as my own.
His tongue circles, teases, while his hand attends to my other breast, creating twin points of pleasure that connect directly to the building ache between my legs. When he draws my nippleinto his mouth, applying the slightest suction, my hips lift involuntarily against him.
I reach between us, fingers finding his belt buckle. The metal is cool against my fingertips, the leather worn smooth.
"Off," I manage, tugging at it. "Everything off."
Bradley complies, but not with the haste I expect. He moves deliberately, unbuckling his belt with steady hands before unzipping his pants. The sound of the zipper is loud in the quiet room, making this moment suddenly, intensely real.
He stands to remove the rest of his clothes, and I take the opportunity to shimmy out of my own pants, kicking them to the floor.
For a moment, we simply look at each other, naked in the dim emergency lighting. Thunder crashes outside, illuminating us in a brief flash of brilliance before returning us to amber shadows. The storm creates a strange intimacy, as if we're the only two people left in the world.
He's beautiful, all lean muscle and purpose, nothing excessive or ornamental. A body shaped by service and discipline. And now, by desire for me. His erection stands proud against his stomach, and I find myself wanting to touch, to taste, to know all of him.
He joins me on the bed again, the narrow frame creaking slightly beneath our combined weight. The length of his body presses against mine, skin to skin, heat to heat. The hair on his legs is rough against mine.
"Tell me what you like," he says, voice rough against my ear. His hand traces my side, from breast to hip, lingering on the slight swell of my stomach without hesitation.
"I like to be touched," I answer honestly. "Everywhere. Slowly." I take his hand, guiding it between my legs. "Here especially."
His fingers explore gently, parting, discovering. I'm already wet for him, have been since that first kiss in the bay. When his fingertip circles my clit, finding the perfect pressure immediately, my head presses back into the pillow, eyes closing against the sudden intensity.
"Like this?" he asks, watching my face as he touches me.
"Yes," I breathe, hips rising to meet his hand. "Just like that."
He maintains the rhythm, building pressure slowly, methodically, as if he has all the time in the world. His free hand continues to explore elsewhere—my breast, my hip, the sensitive skin of my inner thigh—creating layers of sensation that make it hard to focus.
When he slides one finger inside me, then a second, I moan at the fullness, the rightness of it.
"Look at me," he says, and I open my eyes to find his gaze intent on my face. He's learning me, reading every flicker of expression, gauging what brings the most pleasure.
When I'm close, trembling on the edge, my breath coming in short gasps, he leans down to kiss me. The pressure of his mouth, the curl of his fingers inside me, the heel of his hand against my clit… it all combines to push me over.
I come with a cry that he swallows, my body pulsing around his fingers as pleasure washes through me in waves.
Before I've fully recovered, while aftershocks still ripple through me, I'm pushing at his shoulders, wanting to give him what he'sgiven me. He goes willingly, rolling onto his back, helping me as I straddle him.
The position puts me in control, and I take a moment to appreciate the view of Bradley beneath me, his chest rising and falling with a quickened breath, his hands resting lightly on my thighs.
"My turn," I say, enjoying the flash of anticipation in his eyes.
I kiss him first, deep and thorough, before moving to his jaw, his neck, the hollow of his throat where I can feel his pulse racing beneath my lips. I work my way down his chest, pausing to tease his nipples with my tongue, discovering they're as sensitive as mine when his breath hisses through his teeth. My hair falls forward, creating a curtain that brushes against his skin as I move, adding another layer of sensation.
When I reach his stomach, I feel the muscles there tighten in anticipation. I look up, meeting his eyes as my hand wraps around his length. He's hot and hard in my palm, skin incredibly soft over steel. I stroke him once, twice, watching his face as pleasure transforms his features.
I take him in hand, shifting forward to guide him where I need him most. The blunt pressure of him against my entrance makes me pause, savoring the anticipation.
Our eyes lock as I sink down slowly, taking him inside me inch by inch. The stretch and fullness draw a low moan from deep in my chest. Beneath me, Bradley's breath hisses through clenched teeth, his fingers tightening on my thighs.
When he's fully seated within me, I pause, adjusting to the feeling of completeness. His hands slide from my thighs to my hips, not guiding, just connecting. I lean forward slightly, changing the angle, and we both groan at the sensation.
I begin to move, finding a rhythm that builds the pleasure anew. Rising almost to the point of separation before sinking back down, taking him deep, then deeper.
Each movement sends shocks of pleasure up my spine, especially when he lifts his hips to meet mine, creating a perfect counterpoint.
His hands slide up from my hips to cup my breasts, thumbs circling sensitive peaks that are still tingling from his earlier attention. The sensation makes me gasp, my rhythm faltering momentarily before finding a new, more urgent pace.
