Infamous Desire(3)

Oh, how I love this man. I love him so so so much that it actually physically pains me.

“I love you,” he whispers against my neck.

“I love you too.”

“How can I cheer you up?”

“I’ll get over it soon. Don’t worry about me.”

He laughs. “You’re supposed to say ‘Let me count the ways’.”

I smile despite my tears. My nose is kind of runny, and I don’t feel very attractive. But Alex doesn’t seem to mind as he turns my face towards his with his crooked finger on my chin, and bends his head down to kiss me.

We kiss. Oh, how we kiss. There’s a groundswell of emotion in that kiss – the pouring of love, pain, guilt, and all the other emotions that we harbor within ourselves but cannot articulate. But we have each other, and we are the stronger and better for it, like the augmented effect of two becoming one and multiplying to ten.

He’s hard again. I can feel his cock pressing against my thigh.

“You OK for sex?” he murmurs.

I’m not sure, actually. I’m still upset, but I’m certainly up for a little hold-me-tightly and tender loving. I don’t know how to say ‘no’ to Alex, especially when he’s always so rock hard and ready. Besides, his face is so beautiful in the lamplight, with multifaceted rainbow reflections in his blue-green eyes and his full, lush lips half parted in a smile.

We’re in my guest room, as always, because he doesn’t like us to make love in the Royal Wing where Claire and his mother reside.

He senses my consternation.

“What do you say I give you a little oral loving instead?” he suggests.

I would never say no to that.

I smile despite my tears.

He tosses off the sheets. I am wearing a silk negligee, courtesy of my shopping trip the other day. It’s mauve, lacy and very sheer. I am also wearing matching silk panties.

He lifts my negligee and peruses my panties.

“Nice.” He grins.

“Thank you for the present,” I say softly.

“Anytime. Though I’d rather they be crotchless.”

The very image of that sends a delicious shudder down my spine.

He’s still grinning as he pulls off my panties and slides them off my legs. My dark pubic patch is revealed. His scorching gaze fixes upon it as he takes his languorous time to part my thighs. I blush. I’m still not used to his intense, sexual scrutiny, no matter how many times he does it.

He lowers his head between my thighs. With the index finger and thumb of his left hand, he peels open both my labia so that my quivering clit is exposed to him and the elements.

“You ready?” he purrs.

I shake my head.

“Tough luck, because I’m ready.

His tongue flickers out and slathers the length of my clit.

Ooooooooo.

I arch my back despite myself. I feel like gripping something in my fists and bunching it.

He does it again and again – a slow trail of his tongue tip starting from the very top of my clit hood down its trembling body, and further down to where it meets my orifice. He is going for sensuousness rather than speed, taking his leisurely time.

Down, lift his tongue up, then starting from the top and down again. Repeat. Soft sensuous strokes. Each sending prickles of sensation throughout my pussy. Each leaving me wanting more.

He varies his movements. Single straight flicks merge with wavy lines, and then progress to rotational curls. His tongue dips within my furrows, which are opened like a Russian box of secrets. My fingers grab the edges of my pillow and then clamber down to grasp his long, tangled hair.

“Ohhhhh,” I moan.

My pussy begins to leak despite my earlier reservations that I would not get aroused after being so distressed.

This urges him on further.

His tongue licks and twirls and gives every part of my pussy a good scrubbing. I twist and turn myself, trashing my head to my left and right. The tip of his tongue dips into my pussy hole. I gasp, especially as it worms itself in pretty deep.

Once inside, it oscillates within my pussy tunnel, circumnavigating my walls thoroughly. Now and then, it strikes against my G-spot, and I can’t help but attempt to close my legs for the sheer pleasure of it.

His hands come down and firmly press my thighs against the mattress.

He continues his oral loving, as he calls it. I squirm and writhe in escalating ecstasy. My hands claw his hair, and then dart upward to grasp the headboard, and then the sheets, and the pillow again – all in a succession of pleasurably agitated activity. My pussy is creaming and staining the sheets, and he laps my juices up, tasting and savoring them as if they were ambrosia.

I moan and make guttural noises in my throat. I feel like climbing the walls.