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His hands smoothed over my breasts, but he didn’t linger there. His nails scraped lightly up to my neck, moving back and forth across my collarbone. Goose pimples skittered down my arms.
He leaned over me, and I felt his breath on my lips. “When I do this thing you think is impossible,” he said, his mouth hovering just over mine. “I want to hear you scream.”
I shivered.
Lachlan’s mouth descended on mine, and he distracted me with a mind-numbing kiss, moving his lips against mine, molding our mouths in perfect harmony. His tongue delved into my mouth, flicking the roof of it and mimicking a hot, slow tempo that my pussy ached to feel.
As he drained every bit of passion from our lips, Lachlan’s hands danced down the side of my throat, over the hill and between the valley of my breasts, just above my nipples, and then along my ribcage. But I couldn’t think about it too hard because he was kissing me. Devouring me. I reached up and ran my hands along the contours of his chest over his button-down shirt.
My core ached. It ached so much, it hurt. It was more intense than anything I’d known before.
Then his fingers pinched my nipples. Lightly. Briefly.
I gasped against his mouth, but his hands continued exploring my body like he hadn’t just electrified me.
Then he did it again. I didn’t see it coming, so absorbed in our burning kiss that I didn’t realize his fingers had left me for a split second. And then my nipples were between his thumbs and knuckles, rolled, flicked, squeezed.
I sucked in air and everything at my core clenched tight.
Lachlan moved his mouth from mine, trailing feather-light kisses down the column of my throat as his nails carved a path to my legs. His mouth had reached the canyon between my breasts, and he moved to one, fogging a hot breath over the nipple. I moaned, writhing beneath him. His tongue flicked my nipple, and then he pulled it into his mouth, sucking hard.
I cried out, arching my back, and he pressed the heel of his hand into my stomach just above my pubic bone. Pleasure shot through me from that, too. It zapped right through the secret place his finger had found before.
I was going to melt into a puddle all over the bed. Every touch from him, every new sensation was winding me so tight, I feared I would break in half.
Showing no mercy, he moved his mouth down, down, further down, nipping, then kissing. Biting, then licking. I sucked in air like I’d run a marathon, and my hands grabbed hold of the sheets like they might stop me from falling over the edge.
His mouth suddenly blew a light puff of air over the opening between my legs, and I realized what he was doing.
My legs snapped together. Or they tried to. He’d already managed to maneuver his shoulders under my legs, and his hands pried my thighs apart. “I don’t think so,” he said. There was a sort of dark satisfaction in his voice.
He couldn’t enjoy going down on me. Could he?
I didn’t get a chance to think about it. Lachlan pushed my legs apart with his hands, and then his tongue slid along the side of my clit. I gasped and then moaned. My legs started to shake. He did it again, and then, circling the outside, finally applied the perfect, silky pressure to the peak of my pleasure.
Something in me cracked with a growing hairline fracture. I ached. I pulsed. My whole being groaned like a ship before breaking apart in a merciless storm. I’d already teased myself to the brink, and he’d brought me there again, and now this? It was too much and still, not enough.
Lachlan dove two fingers inside of me, continuing his torturous, circling tease with his tongue. Around, around, pressure. Around, around, pressure. I started to move my hips in time with his tongue. His fingers pumped in and out of my wet heat slowly at first, grazing that sensitive cluster of nerves over and over again. Then he picked up the tempo, and my blind vision became a Starry Night swirl of color and pleasure.
Something was happening. Something more intense than I could have dreamed of, and it frightened me. I started to shake my head.
I was making little noises. Gasps that ended on my staccato exhales. Lachlan pressed down on my stomach to keep me from writhing. He pumped his fingers faster, his tongue bringing me closer and closer to the edge.
“I ca—” I panted.
“Yes, you can.” Still moving his fingers in a relentless tempo, Lachlan lifted his head. “Take off your blindfold.”
“What?” It was more a breath than a word. I couldn’t think straight. Faster and faster, he was tilting me over the edge.
“Take. Off. The blindfold,” he ordered.
The sharpness in his words stirred me out of my fog, and I reached up with shaking hands to rip the bandage off my eyes. Blinding white swirled over my vision, but his hand was working me and his other had come up to torture my nipple.
“Look at me,” he said.
Panting hard, I lifted my head.
Lachlan was between my legs, his mouth just over my wide-open pussy. His fingers pumped in and out of my soaking wet heat, and he lanced me with his eyes, full of pure, commanding desire. His thumb pressed over my clit, and he hooked the fingers inside of me around the sensitive ridge that sent shockwaves of pleasure pulsing through my core. “Scream for me.”
