Page 47 of Nailed

“This is how I take my pleasure,” I said, brushing my nose against hers. “By giving you yours. I want nothing more. Will you let me have that?”

She still looked slightly uncertain. But when I went back down to my knees and buried my face between her legs, she lost all semblance of an argument.

Miss Lauren Wolfhaardt was stunning on a regular day, but in the throes of pleasure she was something divine. I watched her while I worked my tongue against her, using as much pressure as would be useful through the soaking fabric of her panties.

When I finally pulled them down, she was dripping. I groaned low in my throat, dragging her towards my mouth by her hips and let myself feast. Lauren threw her head back, knocking it so hard against the fridge door that for a moment I was concerned she might’ve hurt herself.

But then she grabbed the back of my head and pulled me nearer and I forgot all about concern. I was lost in the taste and smell and sight of her, and wanted to die here if I could. Her breathing ran ragged now, her chest heaving as her head rolled from side to side as she rode each wave of pleasure I knew I was giving her.

Instead of fueling my ego, it humbled me.

I don’t know how long I spent eating her out but I know she came more than once and my tongue had started to hurt. I kissed the inside of her thigh and slid two fingers inside of her. She was so wet that there was little resistance. I sat back on my haunches, watching her ride my fingers with utter fascination.

It was all so perfect—Lauren losing herself in her pleasure, the feel of her body clenching on my fingers, the taste of her fresh in my mouth. I was in heaven.

But it didn’t seem to be enough. She grabbed desperately at my shoulder, yanking me to my feet and pulling me into a kiss.

“Please,” she said, dragging my body against hers by the belt.

I saw red but beat back the surge of arousal that action incited. I didn’t think this little lady knew what she was getting herself into. She began pawing at my jeans, undoing my belt and fly and slipping her hand inside.

We both gasped as her hand found my erection and my hips jerked involuntarily. She cooed in my ear, sounding satisfied. “Let me touch you.”

I ground my teeth but nodded reluctantly and then she spit into her hand and began moving it across me and I swear I saw stars. I was panting in her ear, my eyes squeezed shut against every twist and grip she calculated.

“You’re…you’re so good at that,” I grunted, sighing as she rubbed her thumb across the slit. “Miss…ah.”

“I love the way you sound when you let go,” she whispered, repeating the motion. I hissed, my hand quickly snapping to her wrist to stop her before I came too quickly.

“Not like this,” I said, not sure if she’d understand what I meant.

But when I looked into her eyes, it seemed that she did. And she wanted it too. I brushed my lips against hers, then reached into my pocket to retrieve the condom I’d preemptively brought with me. As I got it ready, she laughed.

“A little presumptuous, no?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at me. But her words sounded affectionate. Fond “First you commandeer my kitchen and buy your own groceries, and then you bring a condom to fuck me in said kitchen.”

I felt my face heat up at those words.

“I just…I wanted to be safe. The first time we didn’t take any precautions and I just…” my voice trailed off.

Lauren tangled her hand in my hair again, gently scratched my scalp and I melted in her arms, my head lowering until our noses were touching. “I know. I love you for it.”

“Yeah?” I asked, smiling as her mouth met mine again.

“Yeah,” she answered.

Her hands gripped my shoulders as I slipped inside of her, carefully bracing her up against the fridge. Lauren gasped, her mouth popping open and I felt myself throb inside of her, a tortured moan escaping my throat.

Her tight heat around me was perfect. I buried my face in her neck, getting my bearings as my legs turned to jelly.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yes,” she panted. “Yes. Move, baby. I need you to move.”

Goosebumps broke out across my skin at her calling me baby. There was an ownership to that, an entitlement that I wanted in writing, plastered all over these kitchen walls. I wanted it written in every blueprint, screwed into every light fixture, blasted on the skylight.

I moved like I wanted that.

Lauren held onto me like I was the only anchor that existed in a world of nothing but sea. Her legs wrapped around me like a vise and I nearly blacked out, my hips stuttering as I stumbled back and hit the counter that I’d spent hours working on. I blindly shoved the contents off the surface and barely registered the sound as they hit the ground.