Gimme some tongue, damn, I thought.
As though he read my mind Malcolm paused and smiled against my mouth before flickering his tongue over my lips. I opened for him readily, aching from my tongue to my curling toes.
He invaded me gently but inexorably, stroking his tongue over mine in a slow, strong caress that had me reeling, my body listing toward his. I felt the heat coming from him, but we had yet to touch anywhere but our lips, and I longed for more. A moan escaped my chest, and then his hands alighted on my face.
My cheeks burned where his flesh met mine, white hot points of contact that shook me down to my bones, and I reached up, gripping his arms lest I fall. I was swaying, unsteady, and he was a steel pillar, holding me up, keeping me from collapsing completely. Our bodies met, my breasts brushing against his chest, his thighs meeting mine, the bulge of his cock bridging the gap between us, nudging my belly and sending streamers of fire out over my limbs. I wanted to reach down and touch it, take it in my hands, and with any other man I would have.
Malcolm was different. I didn't know how, I just knew he was. I twisted my hips instead, letting my stomach rub over his erection and feeling the contact ripple through him as he shuddered, ever so slightly, like a great wind gusting against an ancient tree, or a skyscraper bowing to a hurricane. The pressure of his hands on my face increased as I circled my hips against him, feeling the delicious bulge grow harder and larger as his arousal caught and fanned into flame, but then, abruptly, he broke away, first planting a kiss to my earlobe, then dragging his open mouth down my throat, over my chest, until he was kneeling before me, his face buried in my stomach.
He inhaled deeply, and I got the sense that he was reveling in my smell. It made me wish that I'd spent more time primping this morning, but that wish was soon forgotten as his hands skated down my body from my face, traveling over my throat, grazing the outside swell of my breasts, smoothing over my stomach until they met my hips. Slipping his hands around me, he splayed them over my generous ass again, and a flood of moisture between my legs responded to his possessive touch.#p#分页标题#e#
My breath came in short, hot bursts as he let his hands wander down the backs of my thighs. Inching forward on the wood floor, he nudged my feet apart with his knees, until he knelt between my legs as his hands found the hem of my skirt and began to lift it up.
I braced myself on his shoulders, my knees suddenly weak and watery. He was face to pussy with me, and I knew he was going to do it again. He'd said as much. That he had respected my wishes and let me stay unbound excited me, and made me almost wish I'd let him tie me up.
Almost.
His hands spread over my thighs, lifting my heavy skirt away, and I reached down and grabbed the hem, lifting it up with one hand while I held onto him with the other. I couldn't get enough air. My body quivered and quaked as he stared at my pussy, still clothed in my panties. Leaving his fingertips on the inside of my thigh, he moved his hand up and up, until he met the edge of the elastic leg bands. I wished I'd worn something sexier. Then one long finger moved to the damp crotch of my panties and rubbed.
I whimpered and faltered, my knees giving way, but he steadied me with his other hand. His eyes rose to mine, and we stared at each other as, slowly, deliberately, he moved the cotton aside, exposing my aching pussy to the cool air.
I could barely keep my eyes open. Desire washed over me, threatening to knock me off my feet, and when he stroked his finger over my slit I groaned. My thighs were still close enough together that there was little room, and my crowded flesh was hypersensitive. My hips rocked toward him and he finally looked away. I let my eyes slide closed as he moved his head forward and gave my pussy a long, luxurious lick.
Oh. Oh, he felt so good.
Slowly, achingly, he circled my clit with his tongue, keeping it firm and direct in the obscuring folds, and I quivered and cried out. I needed a finger inside me, something in me, but he only teased the little nub at the apex of my pussy lips, his tongue pointing hard, then flattening softer, circling, circling. He stroked his fingers over my labia, letting the slickness of our mingling juices tease me softly as his tongue hardened its approach. At the base of my spine, in the backs of my thighs, my climax began to mount.
"God, don't stop," I begged him, and I felt him smile against me. His fingertip ghosted over my entrance, and I had the distinct impression he was laughing at me, telling me he had just what I wanted, but that he wouldn't give it to me yet.
My orgasm built slowly. My legs ached as I struggled to stay up, my hand digging into his shoulder, my toes curling for purchase inside my boots. The fingers holding my skirt up and out of his way were damp with sweat, and I was nearly on my tiptoes, feeling my release just out of reach.