“No! Keep going!” she groaned, hands curling into fists of orgasm, her pussy crammed into his tongue as she hissed, “You are so—oh, Mike!” The vortex of lust, the churn of hope and disbelief and pleasure, didn’t stop and she didn’t think it was possible to feel so much so fast, his fingers strumming her and his tongue licking exactly what she wanted and where she needed, the blanket beneath her ass soaked, his breath coming in little pants now as she imagined he was ready to explode, too.
Keeping her pussy on his tongue, he maintained a steady pace, little laps followed by faster, eager strokes, tonguing her, working to extract every last bit as she came and came and came, comfortable enough to let her face contort and her body twist as she reveled in what he could do to her. One deep, full-body clench as she closed her eyes so hard she saw fireworks behind them and she was done, the peak ended, her prayers nearly silent, the breath leaving her body.
He grinned, then climbed up her body, his long, lanky runner’s frame a muscled wall as he made his journey up to her. One hot kiss full of her taste made her red and engorged again, her clit tightening so much she came right there from just a kiss, her hips pushing into him, her own musk covering her lips, her nose, the intoxicating odor so powerful that she couldn’t believe she was coming again. What kind of man could do this to her?
This kind.
Frantic hands that didn’t feel like hers, but were, pulled at his waist. She wanted him in her now. Preliminaries first, of course—she had to give him some attention, too, as a wildflower patch nearly mingled with a low breeze to send an incredible, heady rush of pollen and perfume their way. Freeing him, she gasped.
She looked down at his cock, pausing a moment to really appreciate it, rising up to meet her.
“Laura,” he said, his voice gravelly and tight.
“Yes?”
Then he reached for her and in one fluid movement stripped off her shirt, his eyes lighting up as her skin shone in the light. She hunched her shoulders forward, a bit embarrassed to be so exposed in bright, unrelenting sunshine.
“Don’t,” he said, his hands cupping her breasts, fingers playing with the light-pink lace at the top of her bra. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?” Alarm raced through her veins, mixing with the endorphins from the orgasms she’d just enjoyed, leaving her cotton-headed and puzzled.
“Don’t hide yourself. Oh, Laura—you are so beautiful,” he whispered in her ear as he leaned forward, unclasped her bra, and pulled off his own t-shirt. Within seconds he had unveiled himself completely, his body nude before her, and he gestured for her to do the same.
She had to stand to slide off her skirt and she sucked in her lower abdomen, wishing she’d spent more time on pilates than dead-lifting, the pain of each fat roll of excess ruining her arousal.
Until Mike said, “You’re like a model in a Renaissance painting. Perfect and real.” He pulled her hand and brought her down to the blanket, kissed the nape of her neck, and she melted.
She was real.
As she grinned, she took one experienced hand, making sure she had his full, erect attention now. She ran her tongue over her lips, savoring the pleasure she was about to give, so the first touch would be perfect, not too dry or bothersome—and, of course, all-too-real.
She clutched his swollen rod in one hand and teased his tip with her tongue, ripples of muscle under his rib cage going crazy. Flicking the tip until he groaned, she perfected the friction level all the way down, completely aroused by his excitement. Thick runner’s legs shifted, the hair against hair like the sound of light sandpaper, and his face was open, languid, even, as she touched him.
No one—not even Dylan—had made her feel this comfortable with her own sexuality. So pure. So real. So alive. Mike was so present with his arousal, so into the moment of her hand, her mouth—her.
Returning her attention to the tip, firming her grip and tonguing the soft rim of his mushroom, she knew he was getting close. Her hand rubbed the base of his cock while she very gradually moved her mouth up and down on him, accentuating the sensation of the roof of her mouth, her tongue and her lips, pumping him with her hand and hoping that she could give him the same pleasure he’d so beautifully given her just moments ago.
One of his hands touched her head, stroking her hair encouragingly, the fingers trying to tell her something she already knew—this was good. Great. Amazing. She took her time to extend his pleasure, for making love on this blanket at the top of a mountain, jet trails above them the only testimony to civilization, was a once-in-a-lifetime event. She wanted to make it perfect.