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He returns his gaze to mine and studies me for a moment. In the background, Barry White is now singingCan’t Get Enough of Your Love Babe, saying to his girl that the more she gives, the more he wants. Saxon looks puzzled by the words.
I sing that it’s no lie, and his lips curve up.
He looks at my breasts and surveys them for a moment. Then he bends his head and begins kissing them again.
I sigh and close my eyes, and climb back onto my pleasure cloud, letting it carry me away. When he decides he’s given my nipples enough attention, he kisses down my belly, brushes his lips across from hip to hip, then shifts on the bed so he can lower himself between my thighs.
Pushing up my knees, he parts them wide and just looks for a whole goddamn minute, while he lightly strokes through my folds with a finger, apparently enjoying the show, judging by his murmurs of appreciation.
I cover my face with my hands and fight not to cover myself up, until finally he lowers his head and licks slowly right up my core.
I give a long, heartfelt sigh that turns into a half-moan.
“Oh yeah,” he says. “Vocal too. I’m gonna make you scream, Catie-with-a-C.”
“I’ve never screamed in bed, and I don’t intend to start now,” I say firmly.
“We’ll see.” He presses either side of my clit, then lowers his head and sucks.
I cover my mouth so I don’t cry out, because I don’t want to fulfill his prediction within five seconds, but everything clenches inside me, and the feeling is exquisite. Ohhh… I’m not going to last long here either, not if he’s as much of an expert at this as I’m expecting. He slides his tongue through my folds and adds his fingers to the mix, and what follows is a slow torture session, just as he promised, as he licks, nips, sucks, and strokes my tender flesh until I’m throbbing with need.
“Come on, Catie,” he says, pronouncing it with an Irish accent: Care-di. “Come to the top of the cliff with me. Right to the edge.” He slides his fingers inside me and presses firmly up, massaging my G-spot. Ohhh, shit.
With the tip of his tongue, he gives my clit short, quick flicks. “You’re so close. Slowly, now.”
How does he know? I try to breathe normally, but my breaths come in deep, ragged gasps. “Oh God…”
“Ah, you’re so fucking beautiful. I want to make you come. Just relax.” With two fingers still inside me, he strokes his thumb up through my folds, then covers my clit with his mouth and sucks.
I come immediately, clenching around his fingers, and it’s sweet and fucking amazing, and I want it to go on forever. But a few seconds later it’s over, and I collapse back on the pillows, completely spent.
Saxon carefully withdraws his fingers. I lift my head to look at him. Holding my gaze, he inserts his fingers in his mouth and sucks.
I groan and flop back again. “Jesus.”
Chuckling, he pushes up, then leans across me to grab his wallet. He extracts a condom, then takes off his boxers, his erection springing free as he eases the elastic over it.
“Wow,” I say.
He moves between my legs. “You say the nicest things.” He tears off the wrapper, then rolls the condom on.
Barry’s now singingI’m Gonna Love You Just a Little More Baby, and as he instructs me to run my fingers through my lover’s hair, I slide my hand up Saxon’s chest, then take a few of his curly hairs in my fingers and tug.
“Ouch!” He grabs my hands and, as I laugh, pins them by my head. “Are you going to be trouble?”
“You strike me as the sort of guy who likes trouble in bed.”
He gives me a wry look, then releases my hands and reaches over for his phone. “Music off or on?”
“On. Always.”
He passes me the phone. “Go on then, choose a song.” It’s the latest Apple iPhone, over three grand of slick beauty, making me embarrassed at the thought of how I texted Louise on the old phone she acquired for me from a dodgy boyfriend.
Spotify is already open, so I search for Ed Sheeran and choose Shape of You. Ed starts singing about finding a lover at the bar, starting a conversation, and then dancing, and Saxon laughs.
He puts the phone back on the bedside table. Breathless, I watch him push up my knees. He strokes the head of his erection through my folds a few times, his eyelids falling to half mast, and presses the tip against my entrance. Then he leans over me and lowers down.
He looks into my eyes and hums along, telling me to follow his lead. My lips curve up. “Just like dancing,” I whisper.
