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He's cold from the glass, but that only makes me hotter.
"Now…" He traces a line up my leg. "Now you're going to come on my hand."
I nod.
He pulls me into another slow, deep kiss.
I part my legs to make way for his hand.
I part my lips to make way for his tongue.
He kisses me hard. I let him lead, but I kiss back, pouring every bit of need into the gesture.
His thumb finds my clit.
His other hand goes to my chest.
He toys with my nipple as he rubs me with perfect, slow strokes.
Again and again.
Then a little faster.
A little harder.
Exactly what I need.
I slip my hand under his shirt. I dig my fingers into his skin. Then my nails. Until my gesture is hard enough, he groans against my lips.
He keeps the same perfect rhythm.
Every stroke pushes me closer to the edge. I'm not sure how I take more. I'm already so keyed up, so ready, so consumed by need.
The tension winds tighter and tighter.
So tight I'm sure I'm going to break.
But I don't.
I unfurl.
Pleasure spills through my body as I come. My sex pulses. My toes curl. My nails dig into his skin.
Bliss fills every cell.
The world is a big, beautiful place of want and need and the best kind of satisfaction.
He kisses me, rubbing me through my orgasm.
When he finally pulls back, he rights my clothes and brings his thumb to his lips.
He sucks the taste of me from his digit.
It's the hottest thing I've ever seen.
I barely manage to pick up my drink, to bring the glass to my lips. "Now?"
"Now, you wait until I'm ready to take you home and have my way with you."
