When her mouth finally closed over my nipple, I cried out, the pleasure sharp and intense. She sucked and teased, her teeth scraping gently, her tongue swirling around the sensitive peak. It was almost too much, the sensations overwhelming, but I didn’t want her to stop.
Her hand slid down my stomach, her fingers tracing the faint shadow of hair along the apex of my thighs. The slow stroke of her palms as she massaged them had my hips lifting, but she only paused. Her gaze fixed on mine, once more making sure I was there and when I nodded, she smiled. She pressed my thighs open and I stopped hiding.
I was bare before her, every vulnerability exposed. But there was no shame, only a growing sense of anticipation. Her eyes roamed over me, dark with desire, and then she was back, her body pressing against mine, skin to skin.
The feeling was electric. Her body was soft and warm, her curves molding against mine in a way that felt both foreign and incredibly right. She was waxed smooth everywhere, her skin like silk under my hands. I explored her, my hands mapping herback, her hips, the soft swell of her ass, marveling at the feel of her.
Her thigh slid between mine, pressing against my core, and I moaned, grinding against her, seeking friction. She kissed me, swallowing my sounds, her hand moving down my body, her fingers finding the slick heat between my legs.
"Kiara," I breathed, her name a prayer on my lips.
She didn't answer with words. She answered with her touch. Her fingers stroked me, exploring my folds, finding my clit and circling it with a pressure that made my whole body tremble. It was like she was breaking open all the dark places inside my soul, all the empty spaces I’d been hiding, and filling them with light, with pleasure, with her.
The pleasure built, a slow, steady wave that grew higher and higher with every stroke of her fingers, every flick of her thumb. I was lost in it, lost in her, my mind blissfully, wonderfully blank. There was no past, no future, only this moment, this feeling.
She shifted, moving down my body, her lips and tongue leaving a trail of fire. She settled between my thighs, her hands on my hips, holding me open. And then her mouth was on me, her tongue replacing her fingers, and the world shattered.
The pleasure was blinding, a white-hot explosion that ripped through me, leaving me gasping and shaking. I cried out, my hands fisting in the sheets, my body arching off the bed. It was intense and overwhelming and utterly perfect.
She didn't stop. She stayed with me, her mouth and hands gentling me through the aftershocks, her touch a soothing balm. When I finally came back to myself, she was kissing her way back up my body, her movements slow and tender.
But something in me snapped.
The tremor that was wracking my body wasn't just from the lingering pleasure. It was from the sudden, terrifying realization that this could be it. This one moment. That I might never feelthis seen, this wanted, this whole again. The thought was a spark to gasoline. I needed more. I needed all of it. Right now.
I surged up, rolling her over with a force that surprised us both. A soft "oof" escaped her lips as her back hit the mattress, but her eyes widened with excitement, not fear. If she saw the feral, desperate need in me, she didn't flinch. She met it.
My mouth crashed down on hers, no longer tender but hungry, bruising. I kissed her like I was trying to devour her, to memorize her taste, to imprint this moment on my soul. My hands were everywhere, frantic, possessive.
My hands roamed her curves, the dip of her waist, the flare of her hips. I had a thing for soft bodies, for the generous give of them, and hers was perfect. I broke the kiss, my gaze dropping to her breasts once more, and I lowered my head, taking a perfectly dusky, peaked nipple into my mouth.
I sucked hard, my teeth grazing her, wanting to leave a mark, wanting her to feel this as deeply as I did. She cried out, her hands tangling in my hair, holding me to her. It had been so long since I’d been able to lose myself against a pair of breasts, that I went a little crazy.
I worshipped her breasts, moving from one to the other, tasting and teasing until she was writhing beneath me, her breath coming in ragged pants. I could feel the slick heat of her against my thigh, and the knowledge that I was the one making her feel this way was intoxicating.
Now, I needed to taste her.
As much as I wanted to stay with her breasts, I massaged one with my hand even as I kissed a path down her stomach. At each dip and curve, I stroked my tongue over her navel, then the sensitive skin of her inner thighs and eventually, I settled between her legs.
The intoxicating musk of her arousal filled my senses and blotted out everything. I looked up at her, her eyes dark andheavy-lidded, watching me, and then held her gaze as I licked a slow, deliberate stripe up her slit.
Salty and sweet and uniquely her, she was delicious. I groaned, my own body clenching in response. I teased her, my tongue circling her clit without ever quite touching it, my hands holding her hips steady as she bucked against me.
As much as I wanted to draw this out, to wrench every drop of pleasure for both of us out of her, the frantic and desperate part of me won. I flattened my tongue and licked her again, this time focusing on the tight bundle of nerves, sucking it gently into my mouth.
Her response was instantaneous. A sharp cry, her thighs tightening around my head, her fingers gripping my hair so tightly it almost hurt. I loved it. I loved knowing I had this power, that I could make her fall apart like this. I slid a finger inside her, then another, curling them to find that rough patch of skin inside her that made a woman see stars.
"Rachel," she gasped, her voice strained. "God, Rachel."
I didn't stop. I fucked her with my fingers and my mouth, my movements growing faster, more demanding, matching the wild rhythm of my own heart. I could feel her getting closer, her inner muscles starting to flutter around my fingers, her hips moving in a desperate, seeking rhythm.
But I wanted to feel her come against me. I wanted to be the reason she broke apart.
I pulled back, ignoring her whimper of protest, and moved up her body. I captured her mouth in a searing kiss, letting her taste herself on my lips. I shifted, swinging my leg over her hip, positioning us so we were pressed together, cunt to cunt. The first contact was electric. A jolt of pure pleasure shot through me, so intense it stole my breath.
I looked down at her, at the flush on her cheeks, the desire in her eyes, and I started to move. It was a slow grind at first,a deliberate, teasing pressure. Her slick folds slid against mine, the friction building, the pleasure coiling low and deep in my belly. It was better than I had ever imagined. The intimate, raw connection of it was overwhelming.
Her hands gripped my ass, pulling me closer, urging me on. I increased the pace, my movements becoming more urgent, more desperate. We found a rhythm, a primal, rocking motion that was both fierce and beautiful. Our bodies moved together, slick with sweat and arousal, the sounds of our breathing and the wet slap of our skin filling the room. I could feel her clit rubbing against mine, a perfect, exquisite friction that sent shockwaves through me with every thrust.
