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“Oh my god. Please. Daniel. More.”
Yes. That really was me. It’s really my hands plunging into his hair, searching for something to hold onto, something to guide, something to cling to while my hips buck and arch beneath him. He takes his time, licking me with hot passes of his tongue, tasting me at my entrance, circling my clit. He doesn’t so much tease as he tastes, and he does that with abandon, while also doing it slowly and torturously. In essence, it’s an artform and he’s the artist and I’m whatever lump of clay he’s sculpting into a masterpiece.
My belly is quivering and my whole body is shivering. I tear one hand from Daniel’s hair and set it on my stomach, but my hips do the same quivering, arching trick. He stops using his tongue when I start panting and instead, just uses his lips.
No one has ever kissed me there. Not like Daniel is doing. I’m so wet that I’m probably soaking his chin. It certainly sounds like I’m soaking his chin. He eats me messily, without caring about the sounds, and if I wasn’t so aroused that I felt like at any second I could splinter apart and never be put back together again-which would be so much messier than it sounds so I hope that doesn’t happen, I might actually care.
My hips rise up and fall, thrust as Daniel starts thrusting with his tongue, circling, tasting, licking, and yes, thrusting. He finds my entrance and tastes me there before his tongue fills me. I gasp, since a gasp is the only sound I can make past the wall of pleasure building and coiling in me like a black pit opening up, ready to suck me and swallow me whole- less messy than the bursting apart shattering thing for sure.
Daniel groans and the sound travels into me, nesting itself in my muscles, knitting into my bones and tissue, into my blood and vessels, my cell and my heart- that closed off place that I was sure could never be reached again, but it’s doing some crazy twinging now.
My body vibrates, and then Daniel starts talking. Not dirty, talk, but he pulls back just a little and massages the pad of his thumb over my clit, and says things like, perfect, beautiful, radiant.
“Gorgeous, Leandra. So, so perfect.”
In response, my hands go back to his hair and I pull until he probably is nearing a shriek. Okay, maybe not that hard. He doesn’t grunt or let out a sound of pain, but he does bring his face back and start to torture me again. His tongue does mysteriously, wonderful, bust apart worthy things to my clit, raising the level of heat inside of me into barely tolerable levels. I know that I’m going to shatter and it’s going to happen soon.
Daniel is a sex god (which I know from previous experience), and he also knows a little bit about what I like and how I work. I think. It might not be sexy to put it that way, and maybe he just has a sixth sexy sense, but however it gets put together- knowledge or instinct- he sucks on my clit and inserts two fingers inside of me, and gives me the gosh darn open sesame password for my own climax.
“Come for me, baby.”
There isn’t a single thing I can do not to make that happen. To be clear, I do want it to happen. Every bit of me is in league with it happening. I don’t just come, as he commands. The pleasure hits, detonating, and I feel like I come apart. Like I shatter. Splinter. Fall into that black hole. Every bit of the above. Every box is checked.
I vibrate through the pleasure, rocking and writhing against the waves, crashing and falling and definitely burning. My muscles tense and let go, only to tense up again. I can feel my walls clenching around Daniel’s fingers, feel my clit pulsing under his tongue. He laps up all my juices, and as I come down, I know that I’m not ever going to be able to get enough of this. Of Daniel. I want more. Already. Impossibly. Right on the heels of an amazing climax. I want more. All of it. All of him. I need to feel him inside of me.
“D-Daniel,” I stammer, doing my best with language , which is complicated at best right now.
“Hmm?” He tilts a brow playfully and looks up at me. His chin is glistening. His lips are glistening. His eyes are glistening- a different kind of glistening. He looks every bit like he’s just been the one thoroughly satisfied, and god, that is so, so heady.
I take a brief second, when he pushes himself up onto his forearms, to admire his sheer male beauty. Okay, it’s more than a second. He lets me just stare at him. I’m very, very thankful for the sunlight. It does wondrous things to a body that needs no help at all to look superbly and breathtakingly beautiful. I let my eyes linter on his rippling shoulders, trail down the cut grooves of his chest, and end on the delicious V of his abdomen.
