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He didn’t give her long to recover from her waves of pleasure. From where he was crouched on the floor, he caught his bowtie in his fingers, and, as he stood, he whispered the fabric over her body, pausing at her nipples and letting it glance, ever so lightly, across her sensitive flesh. At her mouth, he pressed a finger inside her moist lips, just the tip, and she rolled her tongue over it instinctively. His arousal jerked against her belly.
The sense of power grew.
He lifted the bow tie higher, to her eyes, where he held it, wrapping it around her head and securing it with the clip.
“Okay?” He asked, the question hoarse with desire.
She nodded. She wasn’t sure she could speak. She certainly couldn’t see. His mouth founds hers and it was gentle and it was an exploration, a searching of her. She surrendered to him, swaying her body forward, feeling his closeness and taking strength from it.
He kissed her harder then, lifting her up and carrying her back to the bed, but this time when he lay her down he came with her, his powerful frame over hers, his legs straddling her, his mouth barely lifting from hers.
He wanted to take her. He wanted to drive into her fast, then slowly, but first, he needed to kiss her breasts, her stomach, her
shoulder. He wanted to kiss every square inch of her until she was begging him to take her.
He dragged his mouth lower, between her breasts, his tongue running a line down her front, all the way to her naval. She sucked in a shaking breath and arched her back, her hands reaching down to his shoulders, kneading his flesh.
“You are so beautiful,” he murmured against her skin, smiling as he moved back to her breast and ran his tongue over the soft underside.
“Thank you.” A soft murmur, and his smile grew. She was barely listening. He brought his mouth back to her neck, flicking the pulse point there and then, he hovered above her, staring down at her, taking in every detail of her.
“Are you okay?” His hesitation surprised him.
“Uh huh.” She smiled and something inside of him shifted, a weight, sliding from his gut and lower.
He nudged her thighs apart with his knee and then he brought his tip to her womanhood, gently probing her, watching her face. She held her breath and he ached to take away her fear. He kissed her once more, slowly, as he entered her, and he tasted her moan.
He paused when he was completely sheathed in her moist depths, giving her a moment to adjust to the strange newness of his possession, and then he shifted, moving deeper, and pulling out, kissing her, letting his fingers run over her as he stirred her to new heights. Slowly this time, not like in his office when desperate passion had overcome him.
He felt her muscles squeezing, desire slicking her, and he reached down, loosening the bowtie from her eyes.
“I want to see you,” he explained huskily.
And he watched as she fell apart. He watched as her face flushed and her eyes rolled back in her head, as she bit down on her lip and she scrunched up her face, experiencing the pleasure in every nerve in her body.
He kissed her then, and she kissed him back, pushing up on her elbows and knotting her fingers in his hair, pulling him down to her. She wrapped her legs around his waist and then she moved, rolling her hips, taunting him, teasing him, driving him dangerously close to explosion.
“Claudia,” he murmured, breaking the kiss.
“What? Am I doing something wrong?”
His laugh was a sharp dismissal. “You are doing everything perfectly.”
She sucked in a breath and feminine pride filled her up, making her glow from within.
“This is amazing,” she whispered.
He laughed. “You are definitely good for my ego.”
She couldn’t respond. He moved deeper and she moaned, her fingertips digging into his shoulders, her eyes locked to his as her pleasure reached fever pitch once more. This time, he rode the wave with her, breathing in time with her, holding her as she fell apart and exploding into her, losing himself in her sweetness and her responsiveness.
He held her, and he waited for her breathing to slow, and then he propped on his elbows, looking down at her. A fine bead of perspiration ran across her forehead and he kissed it, tasting her saltiness, worshipping her.
“That should have been your first time.”
She nodded, not capable of speech. The sting of tears was in her eyes and her throat but they were tears borne of happiness and satiation.
“Thank you.” A hoarse, thick acknowledgement of gratitude. “I’m glad you were my first.”
