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How? How is this man real? How?! I must be imagining him. This is surely just a drunken dream.
Harry continues to eat me with fervor.
I’m shaking, clutching his hair by the fistful. “God, you’re really good at all this,” I mutter. “I thought you said you weren’t experienced?”
Shit—why did I say that? Am I trying to ruin the mood?
I don’t want to know the details of the women he’s touched in the past. Of how far they went. I don’t want to think of any man I’ve ever been with and how each experience left me feeling let down. I just want this moment with Harry where everything feels new and pure and perfect.
He’s not distracted by my silly question, though. He chuckles from where his face is hidden between my thighs. “I may not have much experience. But since the night I first met you, I’ve practiced this moment a million times in my mind. You have no fucking idea.” He hooks my legs over his shoulders and buries his face deeper.
He forcefully presses my hips down into the mattress and licks a hot, slow path up through my folds with his tongue. Then he slurps my clit into his mouth and gently massages it with the tip.
I grab his hair in both fists, frenetic as I grind my hips on his mouth. “Oh my god, Harry. Yes, like that. Yes. Please.”
He’s licking. Stroking. Dragging the flat of his tongue through my folds. Then two fingers pry me open and he dips his tongue deeper still.
“You taste so fucking delicious,” he grumbles hoarsely. “I don’t fucking want this to end. Ever.” He gives my clit a hard suck. “I’d miss the Super Bowl if you promise to let me stay between these thighs.”
I laugh. “I don’t think I’ll last until the Super Bowl…”
In fact, my electrified body can’t hold out one moment longer.
“I’m coming…” I whine for the second time tonight, something I’ve never experienced with any lover in the past.
“Fuck, yeah,” Harry groans from the spot where his mouth is burrowed at my core. “Come on my face, baby. Let me feel you coming on my tongue.”
I grip his hair like the reins of a chariot and ride his face right through the gates of paradise. Pleasure consumes me like flames of hellfire and I scream his fucking name.
The post-climax fog clears gradually.Nadia, what the hell are you doing?!
Shit—my buzz is starting to fade. My guilty conscience is coming back online. My good sense is trying to kick in again. So I pull Harry on top of me and kiss him hard.
Logical Nadia can’t enter the scene right now. She can’t. I don’t want to be Logical Nadia tonight.
As we kiss, I’m so turned on by the taste of his tongue. That’s my flavor. And his. And a whole lot of vodka. It’s amazingly erotic.
“Let me get a condom…” he murmurs at the crook of my neck, nipping me there. “Let me be inside you…” he pleads between kisses. “Wanna be inside you so bad. Do you want that?” He eases back to stare at me. I can feel his insanely hot and hard erection prodding at my thigh.
The answer is yes. Absolutely fucking yes.
I’d like to go further. I’m burning from head to toe, wanting him. Needing him. The man has a magically wicked tongue, but I want him to fuck me senseless. I want to ride his cock until we’re both seeing stars.
I want to have hot, sweaty, filthy-as-fuck sex with my new husband.
But that light bulb of good sense momentarily flickers back on before I can stop it.
I look at the man hovering above me. At the affection and adoration on his face. As horny as I am right now, I know that this isn’t just any ol’ guy and to him, this isn’t just any ol’ night of passion. Harry’s waited so long to be intimate with a woman in this way. He deserves better than this.
Something doesn’t feel right about sleeping together, not when our delicate future together is so uncertain. Harry is unlike any guy I have ever met. Sex will actually mean something to him, and that means something to me.
I may be drunk but my conscience refuses to take that lightly.
“We…maybe we should wait.” It utterly pains me to say those words and the space between my thighs protests with a harsh sob. But I know it’s the right thing to do.
Despite the disappointment on his face, Harry makes it so simple. He tenderly brushes my curls from my forehead and places a kiss there. “Okay.”
God—he’s the sweetest man I’ve ever met.
