"Not going to answer? Fine, baby, but that means I get total control." Within a second, he has me spun around, facing him. My hands fall to his chest for support. His muscles flex under my palms reminding me of the sexy and strong man he's become. He lifts my chin and says, "Don't want to tell me what you want, then you're at my mercy. Can you do that? Give me total control?"
I swallow hard and my voice sounds miles away as I speak. "Is that what you want?"
He shifts in his stance and cups my face with his hands. "I want to make you come until you pass out."
I can't help it. I swallow hard again. "I want that too."
"Good."
He doesn't take a second for me to catch my breath before he's laying me down on the bed and parting my legs so he can position himself over me. Still with his jeans undone, his hair slightly askew, and a heated look in his eyes, he places his hands on either side of my head and lowers his mouth to mine where he gently parts my lips with his tongue.
I grant him access, not putting up any sort of a fight. Why would I? How could I? I want this. I need this. I will explode without this.
Our mouths meld together, slowly. There is no rush in his movements; it's as if he's imprinting every single flick of our tongues, movement of our mouths, and nibble of our teeth in his brain. I would be lying if I said I wasn't doing the same thing.
There is something about the soul act of kissing another human, of fusing your mouths together, exploring, that can make or break an experience. From one kiss, I can tell if the man I'm locking lips with is worth the effort, if there's hope for a future between us. The first time Tucker kissed me, I knew I was doomed. But now? I know I'll be ruined for life.
He doesn't mindlessly kiss me as a way to get to the next step. No. There is purpose in each flick of his tongue, of every movement of his mouth, as if he has a blueprint to my arousal and he's following it step by step.
His body barely presses against mine, leaving his lips in charge, making me feel overwhelmed, needy, and so hot for him that I can't control myself. I put my hands on his cheeks and try to pull him closer but fail when he pulls away. Lips swollen, he looks me in the eyes and says, "Hands linked above your head; keep them there until I say you can touch me."
"Tucker . . ."
"You gave me control, baby. Trust me and listen." When he calls me babe, I melt. When he calls me baby, I fall further and further for this man.
I link my hands and raise them above my head, which brings my breasts closer together. He groans when he takes me in, and when I think he's going to return to my mouth for more kissing, he scoots down my body until his head is even with my chest. With his knee propping him up between my legs, he runs his left index finger in circles around my right nipple. He barely touches me, just circling and circling-madly-until I can feel my hips start to ride his jean-clad leg looking for release. He lifts his fingers and goes to the other nipple where he does the same kind of torture, burning me from the inside out.
My clit pounds. I need. Need him so much.
"God," I gasp, surprising myself. I've never been one to vocalize during sex, but the way Tucker makes me feel, it's hard to keep my mouth shut. "Tucker, touch me."
"I am," he whispers.
"Squeeze me," I say on a moan, my hips really starting to move against his leg.
"Who's in charge, baby?"
"You," I groan, my eyes shut now as his nose starts to skim across my jaw, his breath hot and sweet on my neck.
His fingers continue to circle my nipple as he says, "Good." His voice is firm and just when I think he's going to continue to torture me, he pinches my nipple so hard that my upper body arches in response and a low moan escapes past my kiss-swollen lips. "Fuck, that's sexy," he mumbles, making his way down my neck to my breasts.
He continues to pluck and pull at my nipple while his mouth pays attention to the other, sucking it between his teeth where he nibbles, pressing down with just the right amount of pressure that I think I might just come from his touch alone. His mouth is so hot, so wet on my burning skin, causing a myriad of sensations to roll through my body. My clit pounds, begs, seeks release as his hands and mouth work along my breasts. He's single-minded in his efforts; torture Emma in all the right ways.
Hands above my head, my naked body melting into the coolness of his comforter, I lose myself as this gorgeous man tongue-fucks my breasts, squeezing them with this hands, occasionally flicking my nipples, making me so aroused that I can't feel anything but the solid, relentless beat that drums between my thighs.