“Lower,” she whines, and I am in love with her demands.
Eagerly, reverently, I obey, finding the hothouse flower of her sex. She is drenched, quivering, and I nearly lose my mind.
“Oh—Oh, God—” Hattie grips my hair tighter.
I squeeze my eyes shut and part her, needing only to feel. And she feels like heaven. When the tip of my middle finger finds the slippery gem of her clitoris, we both gasp.
“Yes…” I rumble against her ear.
“Yes…” She echoes, pressing back against me.
I circle her, and her hips roll under my touch, her thighs flexing and unspooling above mine. I lick and nibble her shoulder, wanting to suck her here. Suck her everywhere.
And I want more. To go deeper. To be inside her.
When my middle finger slides lower to seek her entrance, she gives a little whine of protest.
“Don’t stop,” she pants.
“I won’t stop, honey.” And I don’t. When I slip my middle finger inside her and my thumb works her clit, tremors take her whole body.
“Oh—that’s—yes…”
Her snug, slick heat quivers around my finger, little seismic quakes that become my whole world.
“More?” I ask, sweat beading on my upper lip.
Her nod is reckless. “Yes. More.”
When I push a second finger inside and rub my thumb harder against her, Hattie’s back bows and she utters a sweet cry. It breaks and wobbles when I gently squeeze the breast I haven’t released and may never release.
“Oh, God—you press so much harder than I do—” The words rush out of her so fast I almost pull back. But I don’t. This is her pleasure. I’m giving her what she needs. I can feel it.
“Too hard?”
She almost breaks my nose when she shakes her head insistently, writhing in my lap. “Per… Perfect…”
I delve inside her heat, my own chest swelling at this sweetness. This closeness. The fact that this angel has let me inside her.
“Oh, God… Do that again.”
“This?” I thrust in, curling my two fingers and coaxing more of the little flutters. Then again and she gasps. Then again and?—
“Beck—holy, holy fuck!” Hattie’s muscles lock, her heels digging into my calves, her fist tight in my hair, her head thrown back against my shoulder.
And if I thought she was beautiful before, the sight of her under the spell of her orgasm steals my breath.
I feel her coming, the gentle clenching and clutching against my fingers, and it’s the best thing I have ever held in my hands. I don’t stop. My fingers quest inside her, matching her tempo. I intend to draw out her pleasure for as long as it will last.
She’s. So. Fucking. Beautiful.
And no one has ever witnessed this but me.
And even in my awe, even in my triumph that I have brought her to this place, I’m jealous. Crazy jealous of anyone else who might one day have the chance.
“Oh-Jesus-stop-stop-stop—” she pants, batting at my arm.
I ease out of her and cup her firmly with my hand, drinking in her spent breaths and soaking up the sweet, boneless warmth of her weight on me.
