Page 30 of Jonesing for a Spy

“Yes.”

Removing my hand, I place both on the waistband of her pants. “What about now?”

She doesn’t answer, but she lifts her hips in response. I tug them and the apple green thong over her hips and off her legs. She hisses as her ass hits the cold stone.

But it’s only for a second, because I can barely restrain myself. I fold over her body, between her spread legs and take a nipple in my mouth, sucking it into a hard peak while playing with the other. I rub my painfully hard cock against her center. For all intents and purposes, I’m dry humping her.

If it weren’t so fucking off-the-charts hot, I’d hate myself for it.

She reaches for me, placing her hands on my head to push me toward the juncture of her thighs.

I laugh and lift my head to find her looking at me. “You’re such a rule breaker. Let’s try again. Close your eyes.”

They narrow to slits, and she sticks her tongue out at me, but she relents and slowly drops her eyelids shut.

I take her hands and curl them around the edge of the island. Her knuckles whiten.

“I won’t let you fall, baby. I promise. But keep your hands there, okay?”

She scrunches her face.

“I need you to talk to me.” I lean backward enough to remove my warmth from her pussy and flick her clit.

“Oh, fuck.”

“Not yet, but I like where your thoughts are going.”

She opens her eyes to give me a look.

“Do I need to blindfold you?”

She squeezes her eyes shut so fast, it’s comical.

Leaning over her, I kiss her belly, her hipbones, and finally the inside of her left thigh as I place her heel on the stone next to her hand, repeating the gesture on her right.

Fuck me. In all my life, I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want this woman. I want to live between her thighs. My fingers, my mouth, my cock. I want to spend hours worshiping her only to begin my pilgrimage again and again. Morning by morning. Night by night.

I think I growl. Perhaps it’s a groan. Regardless, it’s the only thing I know before I fall on her opening, lapping, licking, drinking so deeply, but never slaking my thirst.

Using my thumbs, I spread her wide and draw quick flat strokes from her pussy to her clit. It’s messy and unorchestrated. I’m so distracted by her undulating against my face and the sounds she makes, I go feral. It’s not enough. I can’t get close enough.

I pause long enough to lick my pinkies and in one fell swoop, I spear her pussy with my thumbs, opening and massaging, while my pinkies slip into her ass. My lips find her clit and suck until she screams and bucks, writhing on my face. To get away or to get closer, I can’t tell. I want to care. But I need more. It’s not want. It’s not desire. It’s need, and I draw on her clit again, sucking and flicking as she screams.

“Strider. Strider. Strider!” The last one stretches into a moan as she melts into me.

“Again, Mirren.”

“That was two.”

“Yeah, well…” There’s no completing that sentence. I just know that’s not enough for me.

I don’t know that it will ever be enough for me.

13

handled itself

Mirren