Page 92 of Strum Me

“More okay than I ever have been. Now stop talking and kiss me.”

“You’re so bossy,” I tease her, taking a moment to wonder at her face.

“Yes I am, so there’s no point in arguing.”

I don’t dare, and instead lean down and our mouths meet again. This time gentle, playful. Her lips nipping at mine, her tongue running along my own, then disappearing back into her mouth, daring me to follow.

Somewhere in the play I lose my shirt, my pants, everything. Her nightie is torn away and soon it’s just her body and mine.

“I want to see you,” I tell her. I want a memory of this.

I lean back against the headboard, and she sits up, resting back on her heels. Her hair cascades over her shoulders like a chocolate mane, its ends wispy over her breasts, her nipples. It fuels my promise that soon I’m going to come over them.

Her hands come up and brush her hair away, and she is completely exposed to me.

Stunningly, vulnerably, achingly beautifully exposed.

Then, as if she can read the thoughts in my eyes, she runs her fingertips over her body. Lines of goose bumps follow, and my cock throbs at the thought of traveling those lines with my tongue.

“Are you cold?” I ask. More to break the intensity than anything.

“No.”

Her fingertips graze her nipples and they instantly harden. And my mouth waters.

Then down over the soft plane of her stomach her fingertips linger and down, down, down. Until her hand cups the soft mound of her sex.

I hardly notice the high and low rise of my chest. Just that my cock is harder than it’s ever been.

She leans back and her legs spread. Then without warning, she spreads her sweet pussy lips and glides a finger deep inside herself.

My teeth break the skin of my tongue.

God.

She doesn’t stop. She pulls her fingers completely out, then back in again. I can’t tear my eyes away. I don’t want to miss a minute of this.

Taking care not to touch my cock, or I’ll come before I want to, I move closer to her, to see clearer, to be a part of what she’s doing, to smell her…to taste her.

Her legs spread a little more as her hips lower onto the bed, her eyes struggling to stay open, but I know she wants to watch me watch her.

In and out. In and out. There’s no doubt of her arousal as the sound of her finger-fucking her own pussy fills the room.

“Your clit. Play with your clit for me, angel,” I beg her.

And she complies. She moves her finger, circling her sweet little bump and her moans push me over the edge. I move between her legs, pushing her hand away and replace it with my tongue. Flicking, flicking fast. I have no patience now. I need to hear her orgasm, feel it, know I brought it on.

“God, Brad. Oh God, I love when your mouth is on me.”

There’s no doubt.

I press my tongue hard against her, covering her clit completely, grinding. Her breath comes short and fast now, and I know it’s coming, her coming. I press a thumb against the opening of her pussy, and she arches, wanting me to fill her up. I tease her, tracing the rim, but never quite plunging in.

“Please, Brad…please.”

“Please what, angel?”

“God, just…please.”