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Then I go in for a taste—licking and kissing along his ribs, making his breath catch. I intend to go lower, but he grabs me by the nape of the neck, dragging me up to kiss me, his tongue plundering.
I’m not a virgin. I’ve had hookups, boyfriends, even what you could say were “lovers,” though I’m not that fancy. Some of the guys I’ve been with were good in bed.
But with each of them there was a tangible undercurrent of selfishness in all the thrusting and flipping around and hair tugging. It’s not that I didn’t enjoy those things—but they never felt like they were for me.
About me.
It was always all about them. What they wanted to do, feel, try—how and where and when they wanted to come.
With Connor—every move he makes, every whisper and touch—feels like it’s all for me. To worship me, please me, make me gasp, make me quiver. Holy god, it turns me on.
And he knows things.
When he peels my shorts and panties off and slips his hand between my legs, his movements are bold and sure. But when he pets me there, sliding the pads of his fingers back and forth on my clit, his touch is delicate and sensual, applying just the right pressure.
He knows how to kiss me, when to hold my head still and spear his tongue roughly into my mouth—making me take it—and when to pull back to a teasing stroke and make me chase him for more.
And what he doesn’t know—he asks—and that’s hot too.
The rasping, hushed whispers in my ear. Here? You like that? More?
It makes me so wet—heated, slippery, moisture clings to the apex of my thighs.
But there’s no embarrassment or shame. He likes how wet I am. I know because he tells me.
You’re so slick for me, Violet. Fuck, you’re making me so hard.
He spreads my knees and nudges between my thighs, giving me a front row seat as he rolls a condom on with sure hands. He lines himself up and slides up and down against my soaked opening. And then thrusts inside—going in full and smooth and to the hilt.
My back arches and our moans echo through the room. I lie back and watch his face above me.
He runs a thumb across my parted, panting lips.
“Are you okay?”
I clench my muscles, clamping down and squeezing all around him—pulling a filthy groan from his throat. Because he feels so good. So big and hard and hot—every inch of him stretches me, fills me in the most delicious way.
“I’m perfect.”
Connor braces his weight on his hands beside my head.
“You are, Violet. You’re so perfect.”
He leans down and kisses my breasts, my neck, before taking my mouth in a tongue twining, lips sucking, head spinning kiss that never ends.
And then he rides me—rocking his hips forward and back, surging in and out in a practiced, steady rhythm. He fucks me deep, his cock rubbing against my clitoris with every perfect stroke.
It’s constant and miraculous and catches me off-guard with how quickly an orgasm begins to build. I’m not a fast comer—I don’t really know how I compare to other women—but it usually takes me enough time to get there that I start to worry if it’s taking too long.
But not now, not here, not with him.
The cresting pleasure swells higher and higher with every thrust. The room fills with the sounds of our moans and heavy breaths. And then, when Connor’s deepest inside me and his pelvis presses up against me, he drags his hips in a tight, slow circle.
Over and over, round and round.
And boom.
I go off like a rocket to Mars. Soaring, shooting, bliss sends me flying fast and high, making my muscles go tight and lights swirl behind my closed eyelids.
And I want to tell Connor how good it is. That it’s never been like this. I want to tell him he’s amazing, and a god, and, yes, maybe even that I love him.
But it’s so intense, the sensations wrack through me so hard, words aren’t possible. Breath-catching gasps and high-pitched whimpers are the only sounds I’m capable of as I shudder in his arms.
But even without the words, Connor seems to know that too.
He stays buried inside me, not moving, making love to my lips with his mouth as I come back down to earth. Then he pulls out and turns me on my side—settling in behind me—his chest warm against my back and his wet cock sliding between the cleft of my ass.
He nuzzles my nape with his lips, peppering my skin with kisses. And then he’s touching me everywhere—and from this position there’s nowhere he can’t reach.
He palms my breasts and pinches my nipples, he sucks at my earlobe and licks my neck. His hand slides down my stomach, between my thighs, and his fingers spread my outer lips so he can rub my clit slow and soft.
