His palm slips underneath my shirt and presses against my lower back, warm and good. I tilt my face up further to kiss him deeper and he edges forward until he’s between my legs. His groin presses into me, and the embrace is just as intimate as one done without clothes.
His mouth sprinkles kisses down my neck and I roll my head to the side, grasping at his hair. The aching in my core grows stronger, building to the point that I want to cry.
“Take me inside,” I beg again.
Finally, he listens. He picks me up and tosses me over his shoulder, my legs in front of him and my head hanging down his back.
“Simon!” I shriek, beating at his shoulder. “Put me down!”
With a laugh, he complies.
“You’re crazy,” I gasp, pushing hair out of my eyes.
His eyes sparkle at the insult. “Maybe I am.”
He wraps his arms around me and kisses me again. He takes a step towards the house, and I shuffle along with him. We go all the way to the back door like that, kissing and stumbling sideways, not willing to break our embrace for even a second. He pushes the door open with his shoulder and we fall inside.
His hands are back on my waist, gripping them as he thrusts his hips against mine. My back scrapes along the wall, hard against my shoulder blades while Simon is warm and firm against my chest.
His hands go forward while we kiss, pushing up underneath my shirt. They flow over the cups of my bra, then down again, tickling my sides with their soft touch.
I bite Simon’s lip and he growls into my mouth. My shirt is twisting this way and that in his hands, wetness pooling between my legs.
This time, we’re going to steal even more minutes. We’re going to do it right. I’m going to make love to the man in a way no one on Earth has ever done.
I push his shirt up and break my mouth away so I can kiss across and down his chest. He grabs the back of my head and neck while I kiss. My mouth goes lower, grazing into the bit of hair above his waist line.
I work at the belt buckle, so eager my fingers fumble. Once I get it undone, his pants slide smoothly off. With a tug, his boxers follow. His dick is long and thick, throbbing in my hands. A bead of fluid glistens at the tip. With my thumb, I spread the moisture, mesmerized by the moan the small gesture elicits. Wanting more, I place both my palms on the base and slowly stroke up and down.
Gently, I kiss the tip of the head, then lick the thick vein, following its path down his length. Taking him in my mouth, I savor the salty sweetness. He moans again, pushing his hips towards me, wanting, needing more. Spurred on, I speed up the movement of my mouth ever so slightly, but make sure not to go too fast. I’m in control. At least for now.
“Not… yet.”
Simon grabs at my shoulders and my neck, but I’m not ready to yield control. More heat rises off him and settles on my skin. His cock pulses in my mouth and he growls, hooking his hands under mine and pulls me up to standing. Our lips press together, the taste of him tying us. He breaks the kiss to pull my shirt over my head and kick off his pants.
Wrapping his arms back around my waist, we move towards the stairs. It’s harder going up the steps while kissing, but we manage.
Each touch of our lips is faster than the last, imbued with a sense of crazed desire. On the landing, the hall goes off in two separate directions. Simon grabs my hand and leads the way, pulling me towards the closest door.
He kicks it open and I laugh at the show. There’s a big window on the far wall, and halfway there rests the bed, covered with a deep red comforter. Two large bookcases are full to the brim with colorful sleeves, and there’s a black easy chair in the corner by the window.
I don’t get to see anything else because Simon is already on me again. His hands clutch my cheeks while he kisses me, and I feel sure I could just stand here with our lips locked until time runs out and the world ceases to exist.
He breaks the kiss and takes a step back, pulling his shirt off. He’s naked now — the first time I’ve seen him fully so. The sight sets my legs to shaking. I hold myself up straight, determined to not fall over.
His eyes run slowly up and down my body.
“You still have your clothes on.” He grins, raw and mischievous at the same time.
In response, I slowly pull my shirt off, making a scene of dropping it to the floor. I’m just as dramatic with the rest of my outfit. The bra and pants follow, laying in a mess next to the shirt.
“What about those?” He eyes my pink panties, looking hungry.
“What, these?” I coyly ask. “These don’t count, do they?”
He smirks and shakes his head, his voice thick with promise. “Don’t make me make you.”
“What?” I twirl a finger through my hair. “Make you do what?”