My legs clench together and my hips twitch on their own. I’m literally pooling between my thighs. Am I going to seep onto the blanket? Will that turn him off? Even when masturbating, I never get this wet.
“Don’t worry. I’ll teach you.” His voice is so low it’s almost animalistic. He pulls me back into his lips and separates mine with his tongue. His tongue scrapes my teeth before our tongues connect, his lightly playing with mine while his fingers dance on my back. A whimpered moan escapes my lips.
Oh God.
I pull away out of embarrassment.
“I’m sorry. I-I couldn’t help it,” I whisper, tilting my head back to look at him.
His mouth is gaped open, panting, and his eyelids are heavy. He licks his bottom lip, staring at me hungrily. “That was so fucking hot,” is all he gets out before he crashes his mouth into mine, pushing his tongue deeper as our chins lightly scrape together. Another moan slips out of my mouth which triggers a small moan from him. He’s right. That is fucking hot to hear.
I open my eyes again, curiously watching the emotions on his face as he kisses me. He’s so handsome, I can barely stand it. The concentration onhis face burns me hotter, somehow. How’s it possible to feel this sexually turned on?
He opens his now, catching me red-handed as he rotates his head to kiss me deeper. He smiles against my lips, simultaneously pulling away and nipping my nose.
“Stop staring at me, creeper.”
Shit.
Did watching him turn him off? Are you not supposed to do that?
He continues grinning, his cheeks as flushed as mine have to be based on how hot they feel.
“Is it really creepy?” I shrink back; afraid I’ve ruined everything.
“No, I’m just kidding with you. But proper kissing etiquette is closing your eyes and enjoying the moment. Closing them pulls you further into your senses and helps you enjoy the experience. It heightens your pleasure sensors.”
“You would phrase it like that,” I chuckle, nipping his nose back.
He doesn’t respond but instead kisses me hard, showing me how to move my tongue to fit his style of kissing and what would feel good for both of us.
“If you ever feel uncomfortable at any point, tap me anywhere three times and I’ll stop, okay?” he whispers breathlessly between kisses.
I nod, too out of breath to answer out loud.
“I need you to say it out loud.” He pulls back, staring me in the eyes.
“I’ll tap three times if I feel uncomfortable and want us to stop.”
“Good girl,” he whispers in a low voice, shoving his tongue back down my throat.
Good God, that tone’s going to get me in loads of trouble.
Soon after our agreement, his hand begins exploring, first at my waist and then slowly working its way under my shirt, his soft callouses scraping against my skin, sending goosebumps down my arms and legs. His touch is firm on my skin, but gentle, feeling every small part of me he’s never touched before. He takes his time as if he knows exactly how much time a new space needs before I’m comfortable and he can move on.
But I want him to move faster. I need more of him. I can’t get enough, fast enough.
He leans up on his elbow, gripping the base of the back of my neck in his hand and gently pulls my hair to move me in whatever direction he desires. Just as hemoves me to the left to search deeper into my mouth, he grasps my breast. Soft at first, then harder and back to soft again. Again, testing the waters and seeing what I like and don’t like. What a gentleman.
I don’t have to talk. My body tells him everything he needs to know as my hips move of their own accord. He smiles against my lips before thrusting his tongue into me again.
He abandons my breasts and skims lower, slowly, lazily as if he has all the time in the world.
He reaches my waistband and pauses. Then one by one he crawls his fingers just under, my essence tingling in anticipation. I’m dying to know if it’ll feel better when he pleasures me than when I pleasure myself.
I grab his forearm and shove his hand down to feel me. My anxiety that he’d think I was too wet and be disgusted is pushed out of my mind from the eagerness to feel him touching inside of me.
“Easy, Char. No need to rush,” he rumbles, jerking his hand back so he doesn’t touch me yet. I whimper in protest, but even as he said that he unbuttons my jeans making his way easier.
