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I can do that. Surely, I can manage that…
I do as I’m told, acutely aware of his fingers as they draw my underwear down to my knees, then my feet. Moments later, I’m naked.
His movements are slow, completely unhurried. He trails his fingertips down my sternum, between my breasts, then pauses to circle each nipple.
I gasp and squirm. My buds tighten under his touch, then I arch when he takes one in his mouth and sucks.
Oh God, that feels wonderful…
“You’re wriggling, Jenna.”
“I’m sorry. I just… That feels nice.”
“And this?” He moves to the other breast and suckles that engorged tip.
I can’t help it. I moan out loud.
“Liking that?”
I nod and hope he’ll do it some more. A lot more.
I can barely contain my disappointment when he releases my nipple and continues south. His tongue caresses my bellybutton, then he nibbles his way across my lower abdomen to reach my smooth mound.
“So pretty,” he whispers, nuzzling my inner thigh. “Open for me, sweetheart.”
Carried away on a wave of pure lust, I spread my legs. What seemed unthinkable just a few minutes ago is as natural as breathing now. He slides his hands between my thighs and parts them further. I don’t resist. I’m too preoccupied with holding my breath, craving the next touch and the one after that.
I expect his hands on me, his fingers in me. That’s how this is done, this foreplay. I’ve not been especially impressed on the few occasions I tried it before, but it’s part of the process. A means to an end.
I realise what he actually intends mere moments before his lips close around my clit.
My screech of astonished protest dies in my throat, strangled by the rush of pure pleasure.
I forget his instructions that I should lie still. My hands are in his hair, the strands twisted around my fingers. I hang on, thrust my hips forward, seeking more.
More, more,more!
And, he delivers. His lips are everywhere, his tongue spearing into me, swirling in my entrance. He knows just where, just how…
“Don’t stop,” I chant. “Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop…”
“Come for me, Jenna.”
The command is soft but compelling. Gentle but allowing for no disobedience. I’m more than ready to do exactly what he says, as long as he continues to touch me in just that way. His mouth is magical, his fingers clever and agile, drawing my soul from me.
I soar. A hoarse shout of utter satisfaction is ripped from my throat, surging up from my very core. I’m flying, weightless, mindless. My head spins. Every nerve ending is sizzling, and I lose any semblance of coherent thought.
I couldn’t say how long the sensation lasts. Probably just a few seconds, but it seems longer. At last, though, I float back down to earth. I’m aware, again, of the duvet beneath me, the pillow behind my head. And of the man still between my thighs, his tongue teasing the very last shivers of orgasm from me.
When the room ceases to spin, I venture to open my eyes.
Tony is beside me, propped up on one elbow. He kisses my mouth again. “Enjoy that, princess?”
“Yes,” I rasp. “Oh yes.” Then it occurs to me. “But, you didn’t…”
“There’s time yet. If you’re still up for it.”
I smile. “Can you make it as good as that?”
