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“I could make you come this way,” she said, arching a dark eyebrow at me.
“That would be a first,” I panted.
“If you insist,” she said with a wicked grin. Then she pushed my breasts together, took both my nipples at once, and I promptly lost myself in a detonation of lapping waves that rippled through my entire person.
When I’d strength enough to lift my head, I looked down at her with thunderous curiosity. “How did you?” I stammered. “But that’s not even…”
Sal only pressed a finger against my lips and sank down on her knees before me.
My core contracted at the prospect.
I’d experienced the oral arts plenty and had a reliable list of lasses with equal parts skill and enthusiasm.
But Sal elevated the act to an art. She clearly knew of patterns and pressures but something else too.
Presence.
She spoke to me throughout. Anchoring her mind to mine in my mind to my body. She looked me in the eye. Asked me what I liked. Intuited what I didn’t by a subtle shift of the hips or a gasped breath. She made it feel like something worth knowing.
The tension in my inner thighs had begun to spiral inward and upward, with regular little pulses, fluttering out their ancient warning. Sal moaned against my flesh as her fingers stroked the place she’d made slick.
She lifted her mouth and looked at me beneath hooded lids. “May I?” she asked.
“Yes, please,” I half growled.
Then the same fingers that had drawn back her arrow were inside me. Filling me. Stretching me. Exploring me.
“Oh,” I said, startled and a little curious about the strange sensation she was eliciting. “Oh,” I said louder as her fingertips curled to nudge a place that went made my eyes go crossed briefly.
A lazy cat smile stretched the corners of her mouth. “You like this, my lady?”
“It’s Kat—”
The angle of the pressure changed, making my torso jerk as if someone had pulled marionette strings attached to it. “Never mind,” I whined. “Call me whatever the feck you like as long as you keep doing that.”
“Whose lady?” she asked, quickening the pace.
“Your lady,” I sighed. “Yours, yours, yours.”
Then she put her mouth on me in concert with her fingers, and... I died.
The sound that tore from my mouth was somewhere between animal and human and contained the rawest parts of both.
I fell back on the bed, limp as a boned fish, my breath sawing in and out of my lungs. “And you say you’re not magic,” I said. “What a load of pish.”
Sal grinned up at me as she knelt between my knees. “That wasn’t magic. That was technique.”
“Fortunately, I can be taught,” I said, rolling onto my side. I patted the bed beside me, somewhat rumpled by my body’s enthusiastic spasms. Sal sat down but stopped me when I attempted to reach for her.
“Tonight was about you, Kat,” she said, squeezing my hand before rising from the bed. She walked across the room and picked up one of the discarded towels. Retrieving the kettle from the hearth, she poured steaming water onto the towel and held it out to cool it down before bringing it back to me.
“Hot towel?” she asked with a little bow.
All I could do was stare at her, an ugly worm of doubt creeping in. Perhaps I wasn’t to her liking. Perhaps my body didn’t call to hers as hers did to me. “You don’t want me to—”
“Of course I do.” Sal sat beside me again and gently moved the warm, damp cloth over my face and neck. “But waiting for it. Dreaming about it. Fantasizing about it.” A seductive smile spread over her face. “It only makes the experience sweeter when it comes.”
My eyelids had fallen closed, sunken into the bliss of this simple sensation.
