“It’s a crime,” he murmurs, “that you haven’t had anyone devoted to satisfying you.”
No man has ever said that to me before or made me feel this wanted. Releasing my breasts, his mouth travels down to my navel—slowly, letting me feel every flick of his tongue. Every nip of his teeth.
He kisses my stomach. All of it. The uneven patches, the stretch marks. The soft pouch and side rolls. He doesn’t hesitate or skim. He takes love bites, treating it like it’s a part of me that deserves attention.
When I’m writhing, needing to come so bad, it’s a desperate ache, he slides my thong down my legs and looks up at me with dark, hooded eyes.
“I’ve wanted my mouth on you since you walked into the bar. Can I taste you, Loo-nah?”
“Please,” I whimper, feeling the pool of wetness trickle down my inner thighs.
He presses my heavy legs apart, exposing me to his avid gaze, and groans.
“Mmm, you are ready for me.”
“DK,” I gasp as he lifts my hips to his mouth and slides his tongue over my swollen clit.
I’ve pleasured myself many times during fourteen celibate months, but watching DK kneeling on the floor with his head between my legs, eating me with gusto, sends my body into a quivering mess. I fist his hair, pushing his head deeper, and wrap my legs around his shoulders. My heels still on, only makes the image all the more wanton.
His muffled groans vibrate along my cooch while he sucks and licks in teasing circles until an orgasm rips through me—hitting like thunder. The sheer intensity of which sends me into convulsions and wrenches his name from my throat.
Not even letting me catch my breath, he continues to run his tongue over my clit, again and again, his hand reaching up to pinch my nipples, setting off another explosion. I damn-near snatch him bald as I ride his face like a wild woman.
He waits for me to scale the high and come down before he lifts his head. Then, licking the juices off his mouth, he looks at me with a tenderness that fills my chest. “Mnandi Luna.”
I feel my face heat again. I’m not usually the blushing type, but with him, I’m all giddy and girlie. “What’s mm-nan-dee?” I ask, carefully sounding it out.
“It means sweet. Sweet Loo-nah.”
Everything in me melts, warm and slow, like candle wax. But before I forget that this is only meant to be one night, I reach for the drawer and pull out the condoms I stashed there earlier.
Standing, he shucks off his briefs—the last barrier between us. He’s big everywhere. Beautiful everywhere. I kick off my shoes and crawl to the center of the bed, unable to stay passive with this gift of a man in front of me.
“May I do the honors?” I ask, ripping open the condom packet.
“By all means.” He meets me where I am, dragging his mouth up the column of my throat and along my jawline until he reaches my lips.
Our kiss is wet, lusty. But what it lacks in finesse is made up for in passion. I love the way he responds to me—the breathy stutters, the rumbling moans, and subtle quake of muscles. I trace the smattering of hair that narrows down his solid, round torso into the trimmed thatch surrounding his dick. It’s well-proportioned, thicker than most I’ve encountered, and it’sstraining so that the tip taps his belly, leaving a trail of liquid excitement behind. I wrap my palm around him, and he thrusts into my hand with a desperate hiss. I roll the condom over him and lie back on the bed.
He follows me down, bracing himself on top. His features are tightened with arousal, and his eyes are almost black and dilated with need. I wind my arms around his back.
“I want you inside me.”
“Loo-nah.” His voice cracks as he presses into me.
The instant connection is intense. Not just physically. Something more consuming, involving every part of me. I just met this man, yet I’ve never felt so completely aware of another person.
“I can’t believe you’re real,” he rasps, thrusting with slow, deliberate intent, spiking my desire to an outrageous level.
I clench around him. Every sensation is a building block for the next one. He knows exactly how to move, when to drill, when to swivel, how to angle just where I need it. How to push me right to the edge.
Relishing all of his weight that pins me to the mattress, my hands slide along his sides, squeezing those delicious handles.
He kisses my neck, my shoulder in between his grinding plunges. I love that. It’s sweet and hot.
My legs lift around his hips. Neither of us speaks. No sex talk. But I don’t need words. Our loud, gusting moans and the ravaged look on his face tell me everything—he’s as lost in the pleasure as I am.
When I’m close, so very close, he slants his mouth over mine with a scorching kiss and pulls out.
