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Wow.
He’s just wearing boxer shorts and a white undershirt.
His muscles are so obvious beneath his shirt but what really impacts me is the look of concern in his eyes. They’re pools of compassion, and that’s almost breathtaking. “What’s wrong?” he asks. “How can I help?”
“I can’t calm down,” I say, “so I can sleep. I’m too worked up.”
He nods and says, “I have a massage therapy certificate. It was so…” He smiles awkwardly. “Well, it was any trade school certificate to have the charges dropped.”
I giggle at that, mostly at his awkwardness but, of course, also because he’s so cute when he becomes awkward. I say, “Well, I’d like you to help me calm down and… I definitely want to feelyour hands on me but I wasn’t thinking of…” Damn, why am I so bad at this? I take a breath and say, “of a massage.”
I stare at him, and I don’t know if he understands so I grab the tie of my robe and pull it so my robe opens up a bit. That’s when he figures out what’s going on.
He lifts an eyebrow. “Ah. You wantthatkind of massage.”
Embarrassment floods me. I open my mouth to apologize, but I don’t because before I can, his mouth meets mine.
Something else floods me then. It’s a little like desire, but it’s far more powerful than that. It’s more like a need. Not even an emotional need. This need is more visceral than that. It’s like a drive, an instinct, something that consumes me in my entirety.
I need Drake.
He kisses me deeply and tenderly, but there’s a power in the kiss that overwhelms me. It’s like he’s claiming me with a kiss, making me completely his but doing it in a controlled way. No, it’s even more powerful than that. It’s like he knows I’m already his, and he’s enjoying what belongs to him.
What belongs to him. God, that thought is so powerful, I moan.
Then I moan again when his arms slide to my shoulders and his practiced fingers go about relieving every ounce of tension in my body. I can’t believe how good he feels! It’s like he’s… well, like he’s a professional.
My desire for him doesn’t lessen, but what he’s doing with his hands is so intense that I don’t try to move things forward. As he works his way slowly down my body, all of the tension I feel melts away until I am completely relaxed.
Then his hand slides in between my legs, and energy floods me immediately. I open my mouth to scream, but once again, no sound comes out. His hand moves over my clit with steady, smooth circles, and each time his fingertips graze my clit, he… well, I don’t know what he does. It feels like he flutters them overit. I don’t know exactly how he’s doing it, I just know that if he keeps it up, I’m going to cum so hard I might pass out.
He lowers his other hand in between my legs and slides two fingers inside me. My pussy immediately clamps shut around him, and I gasp as my entire body stiffens. I can feel myself preparing to cum, and it’s a fucking powerful feeling.
His hands move at a measured pace, not quickening or slowing, and my body grows more and more desperate. He thrusts in and out of me just slowly enough that I rise to the peak of climax but don’t fall over the edge.
Then he presses his fingertips lightly over a sensitive spot inside my pussy and pulses them while moving them in slow circles. My pussy wraps tightly around him, and that movement pushes my clit out further. He increases the pace of his movements over my clit just slightly.
He lowers his mouth to mine, and when our lips touch, I explode.
Chapter Four
He doesn’t change a thing as I cum. His lips remain on mine, kissing me deeply. His fingers continue to pulse over my g-spot in time with the jerks of my orgasm. His other hand continues to massage my clit with purposeful strokes, keeping me right at the peak of ecstasy and driving me higher and higher with every passing second.
The man has magic fingers. I don’t understand how he’s so dexterous. I mean, any guys who ended up touching me down there in the past were pretty bad at it. They were either awkward and unsure so it almost felt like I had to help them get past their intimidation or… Well, or they were confident when they shouldn’t have been. If you know what it’s like to feel a guy shove fingers into your pussy when you’re not ready for them, you know what that’s like, right?
Well, there’s no awkwardness with Drake and there’s no discomfort either. As my body goes through a powerful cycle of impossibly hard and clenching contractions followed by waves of pleasure and release, he keeps his fingers moving. He knows what he’s doing, though. He keeps them moving, but he knows what will overstimulate me and avoids it. He knows what I cantake and keeps me in the middle of the orgasm without letting me push into the stage where I can’t handle it anymore.
I mean, of course, all of that might be in my head. I guess it’s possible that Drake is just the first guy I’ve met who knows what he’s doing. He’s the sexiest man I’ve ever been with. He’s the sexiest man I’ve ever seen. I imagine he gets plenty of opportunities to practice his skills.
But even with his experience, he thinks I’m incredibly hot. That’s a pretty powerful thing. I mean, it’s really hard to think about anything else. I mean, anything else but the orgasm, of course.
I think he probably could keep me cumming for an hour or more if he wanted to. I don’t know. I can tell you that he’s in complete control of my body at the moment. The good news is that he decides to switch things up. He kisses me passionately and his fingers slip from my pussy. I kind of whimper. It’s not disappointment exactly, but it’s pretty close. I guess it’s more just longing for him or something.
Well, the feeling of longing doesn’t last.
As he kisses me, he pivots his body until he’s on top of me, and I feel his cock against my pussy. I moan against his mouth as he eases himself in. I don’t really understand how it can be so beautiful. I mean, the feel of his cock inside of me isn’t just physically pleasurable but it’s… I don’t know. It’s fulfilling.
I know it all comes back to that comment. Hot as hell.
