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My head spins as she rocks her hips against mine, silently begging me to lose all control.
But I force myself to calm down.
To take it slow.
To set her off first.
I stretch my fingers inside her thin yoga pants.
Slip beneath her panties.
Find her waiting. Ready.
She moans into my mouth.
Squirms against me.
Whimpers softly.
As I stroke her, I tear my lips from hers and blaze a trail down to her neck.
There, I suck on her pulse, claiming the erratic rhythm before pulling my hand from her pants and wrapping wet fingers around both of her wrists.
Slapping her arms above her head, I stare at her.
Her lips are bruised.
Her hair is wild against the white pillows.
Her back arches as she rides the throes of her pleasure, eyes closed tightly and mouth open wide in a low moan.
So.
Freaking.
Beautiful.
I press a kiss against her mouth and then lean away, letting my breath tease her bee-stung lips. “Tell me now if you want me to stop.”
“Will you?” She smirks.
“Of course. It’s always your choice.”
“All of a sudden?”
I growl. “When it comes to this, you have a choice.”
Tenderness carries the words like a physical caress as she whispers, “Don’t stop.”
Animalistic hunger jumps out of me.
I need no other directive.
Still keeping both her wrists captive above her head, I use my free hand to slide her yoga pants roughly to her knees. I trail kisses up her thighs, delighting in the sounds she makes beneath me.
Holding her down as she tries to clamp her thighs around me, I jerk off her panties. In the shadows of the night, I make her come apart over and over again.
In creative ways.
