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He takes off my tank top, then my bra, before he unbuttons my jeans and takes them down slowly, crouching to pull off my boots before guiding the denim off one foot at a time. When he stands back up, I'm in nothing but panties and sunlight and his eyes are moving over me like I’m something he treasures. Something priceless.
"I thought I’d never get this," he says, voice husky. "I've been wanting you like this since the first week. Broad daylight, no reservations. Nowhere to be."
"You've got some catching up to do yourself." My voice comes out sounding exactly as nervously excited as I feel, and I go to work on his shirt buttons while he stands there and lets me. Holding still under my palms while I push the shirt off his wide shoulders and take my time about the rest, his belt, his zipper, the hard heat of him under my hand through his briefs.
The only sign it costs him anything is the muscle jumping in his stomach and the rough sound he makes low in his throat.
"Careful," he says, voice dropping into that gravelly register that makes my insides liquefy. "I've got plans for this morning and you're threatening all of them. I don’t think I could survive a delay right now."
"Then you'd better get me on that bed before I start improvising."
He tips me backward onto the mattress and follows me down. My underwear disappears somewhere over his shoulder, considerably less ceremonially than the flannel, and then he's stretched out beside me propped on one elbow, looking his fill while his free hand starts to travel.
He takes in every detail with the quiet focus of someone who plans on getting to know every inch of me very, very well. Collarbone, breasts, the curve of my waist, slow open-palmed passes that leave my skin warm everywhere he's been, and when his thumb drags slowly over my nipple my whole stomach flutters under his forearm and he watches it happen with open satisfaction.
"I love watching you feel it," he says. "Even when you were keeping things from me your body never once managed it."
"Aiden."
"It's a compliment." His mouth comes down on my breast, hot and patient, teeth scraping over my nipple until my toes curl against the quilt. He works his way from one to the other and back, unhurried, listening to me the whole time, doing more of whatever makes my breath go ragged, and by the time his hand slides down my stomach I'm wet enough that his fingers easily skate across my throbbing mound.
The sound he makes is half groan, half something close to gratitude.
He kisses down my ribs, my stomach, settling himself between my thighs with his shoulders spreading them wide, and looks up the length of me in the sunlight. "I'm going to take my time now. Fair warning. I’ve got several bad weeks to make up for, and I'm starting here."
His mouth lands on me and my head goes back into the pillow.
He wasn't lying about not rushing. He's slow the way honey is slow, long flat strokes of his tongue with no destination, just finding out what makes me gasp. Every pass sends heat rolling up through my belly in a wide, warm tide. My feet press flat into the mattress, lifting my hips into his mouth, and instead of holding me down like he did in the workshop he slides one hand up and laces his fingers through mine on the quilt.
He's holding my hand while his mouth is between my legs, and it is somehow the filthiest and sweetest thing that has ever happened to me in my life.
"Slower," I hear myself say, and I mean it, which is a first. "Please. I want to savor every bit of it."
He hums against me, I’m not sure whether it’s in approval or agreement, and slows down even further. It's exquisite and unbearable and I'm going to die in the sunshine in this man's bed. The build isn't the usual tightening spiral. It's a slow tide rising everywhere at once, like water creeping up a beach. My thighs are shaking against his shoulders, my grip must be crushing his fingers, and he reads every bit of it and keeps that maddening steady pace, sucking and licking my clit and every inch of my pussy with incredible patience, employing teeth and suction with astonishing accuracy.
Eventually it becomes almost more than I can handle, every part of me feeling swollen and buzzing while the decadent sensuality keeps growing, swallowing my entire being.
"How long," I manage between tiny gasps, "Do you plan on being down there?"
He lifts his head just enough to answer, and his voice is completely level. "I cleared the whole day for this."
The laugh comes out of me before I can help it. And everything lets go while I'm still laughing. Pleasure and joy tangled up in the same muscles so I'm gasping and giggling and pulsing all at once, my hips riding his mouth, sunlight blazing orange through my closed eyelids, his hand gripping mine hard, his tongue working me steadily through every wave until the laughing turns to whimpering and the whimpering runs out of air.
It goes on longer than any orgasm I've ever had. It never crests and crashes. It just keeps rolling until there's nothing left of me to give and it leaves me panting and dissolving into a puddle on the warm bed.
"That," I inform the ceiling, when there's air in my lungs again, "Has never happened to me before quite that way."
He's kissing the inside of my thigh, looking very pleased with himself and he has every right to be. He’s earned it.
I look down my own body at him, his mouth wet with my juices, his eyes bright green in the daylight. We have the whole day still ahead of us, and the want in me hasn't gone down one degree. It's changed key. It wants him closer, deeper, all of it.
I sit up, plant a hand in the middle of his chest, and push him over onto his back.
"My turn," I say, reaching for the waistband of his boxer briefs and he obediently lets me pull them off. I push him until he’s the one lying on his back and just stare in wonder at the acres of taut flesh and honed muscles on his large frame.
And then of course there’s the icing on the already beautifully frosted cake. His cock, hard and heavy against his stomach, and mine to do whatever I want with.
It really is a magnificent penis. Long and girthy, thick veins running over the iron hard shaft. My mouth is already watering. A pearly bead of pre-cum appears before I’ve even touched him and the desire to taste becomes an imperative rather than a want.
