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Slowing down, he mouths me between the legs as if he were kissing me better after a bruising make-out session. And it is a ridiculous thought, but I instantly wish he would kiss my lips like he is kissing my pussy. It is something that still seems rare between us—a simple kiss.
I run my fingers through his dark hair adoringly, the light above us highlighting the sparse greys that drive me crazy. Flattening my body to the ottoman, I hum my enjoyment to the chaste motion of his reverent mouth.
My body warms as he worshipfully moves up, skating his lips between my hips, along the plane of my stomach and between my ribs as I arch into him.
His tongue slides out to taste the sweat between my breasts, and then I lift further, desperate to meet him.
Our lips connect.
He's kissing me…
My world explodes into stars as we kiss with his possessive groans mingling with my exhausted, sated moans that are wrapped in deep everlasting sentiment.
For this man.
I feeleverythingfor this powerful man. There is no one else. Not a friend, siblings.Nothing.Only him.
My number one good thing.
Hitching my legs around the back of his, my naked body slick with perspiration slides along him. His hand moves up to grip the column of my throat, his thumb lifting my chin to direct and control our lips.
Cupping his jaw to deepen our kiss, I feel his arousal brazenly hard between my legs, bruising and teasing.
I wriggle until his erection is thrumming along the sensitive flesh between my folds. I begin to grind on him, needy and desperate for more. To pleasure him. To pleasure me. I rub along him. Back and forth with my hips.
His mouth becomes fiercer on mine. I keep kissing him even as it hurts, even as his teeth flare and his fist tightens, hissing air from me.
He locks his jaw.
Stops.
Stilling his movement, our kiss becomes one-sided as he says, "You want more? That's very pleasing."
I have come to learn he enjoys watching and feeling me as I move on his body. He could toss me aside if he didn't like it, but he doesn't. He likes me rubbing on him like a cat. Perhaps, he likes my desperation. Lifting my hips off the ottoman, I slide along his shaft, spoiled for more pleasure.
"Good girl," he growls, the twisted timbre revealing his arousal and restraint. "You try so hard, little deer. Can you have an orgasm all by yourself for me?"
I roll my hips shamelessly, chasing the sensation.
God, I'm tight all over, desperate for—something. Something is missing.
I become feverish.
After his mouth's assault on me. And now this. I need to prove I can, but I can't. I need him to finish it for me. "Please—"I let out the words through a tight moan. "Please, help me."
Clay's lips slide into a smirk against my mouth as I continue to kiss him clumsily. The taunting sensation burns in my ears. My pussy leaks all over his pants in anticipation.
"God,"I growl, reaching for my climax while it eludes me, feeling as though I will combust if I don't get off again.
Using his body to get there—
"Don't cover the mirrors again, little deer," he orders, lowering one hand to slide a finger inside me so easily a second joins almost immediately. "Oh, you're so wet. So tight. My sweet, sweet girl."
I close my eyes and clench around him, but when he thrusts in, he draws back out in quick succession. I buck to chase the deep penetration. "That's it. You're doing very good." He pushes in again. "Do you want another finger?"
"Yes…" I barely manage to speak, laboured breath beating hard against his mouth.
"You're so greedy."
