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I file that little piece of information away in my head, too. “I’m going to get a hard on every time I watch you talk about cumulostratus or whatever it is,” I tell her, sliding my hand up her thigh. My fingers graze her panties and damn, they’re wet.
“That for me?” I say, sliding my fingers along them.
“Yes,” she breathes.
And I can’t help it. I need to inhale her in. So I push her skirt up over her hips and slide my cheeks along her thighs until my nose hits her.
She smells perfect. I’m so hard it hurts. And because I’m an impatient motherfucker I don’t bother pulling them off, I just push them to the side and slide my tongue along the neediest part of her.
“Liam!” she squeaks. I smile against her and lick again. She almost bucks off the sofa. I lift one hand up to steady her stomach as I carry on worshipping her core.
I slide two fingers from my other hand inside her, capturing her clit between my teeth, sucking and licking this perfect woman until I feel her tightening around me. Her breath is escaping in huffs, her fingers coiled into my hair, her hips moving as much as she can to the rhythm of my sucking while my hand holds her down.
“Oh, OH!”
I lift my head up and she blinks at the sudden lack of contact.
“You pretending now?” I ask her hoarsely.
“No.” She shakes her head rapidly. “Please don’t stop. I’m so close.”
Yeah, I know she is. Her flushed face and wide eyes make me feel like some kind of God. Then I dip my head back down, revelling in the essence of this perfect woman, and twist my fingers until I know she’s at the edge. Her thighs tighten around my head, her nails scrape my scalp, her aching cries fill the room.
And then she lifts her back off the sofa and lets out a long, high-pitched cry. “Liam…”
And fuck if I’m not almost coming, too. I try to commit this moment to memory because I’ll need to jerk off furiously to it later.
I need to remember how she smells, how she tastes. How she feels when she abandons herself to pleasure. I need to commit everything to memory because my life has never felt more perfect than it does right now, buried in this woman.
But I, more than most, should know that something this perfect never lasts.
CHAPTERSIXTEEN
SOPHIE
I feel like I’m in some kind of drugged stupor, except it’s a person I’m intoxicated by, not an illegal substance. It’s only when Liam lifts his head and my hands are still tangled in his hair that I realize I didn’t do a single thing to help this along.
He made me orgasm without any assistance at all.
And yes, maybe it’s shameful to reach my late thirties without having a purely male-induced orgasm, but I don’t really care because now that I’ve had it I want more.
Just not yet, though. Right now I want sleep.
Liam smiles softly, his eyes flickering over my face like he’s trying to figure out if I’m okay. I smile back at him, finally releasing my death hold on his head, and he climbs up over me, cupping my face with the hand that hadn’t been squeezed to death by my pleasure.
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” I breathe. “Just trying to work out how to use my muscles.”
He laughs and it does something to me. “Can I kiss you again?” he asks.
“What’s with all the questions?” I mutter. “You just made me see stars, I think you can kiss me.”
“I wasn’t sure if you’d be okay with tasting yourself.”
Oh. Of course. His lips are glistening. “I guess it depends how I taste,” I say softly.
“Like fucking heaven.”
