“No. I’m going to bring you to edge. You’ve got your own work to do.”
She opened her eyes. Her body was on fire. She was going to explode, absolutely, finally a complete obliteration if he didn’t take her. She stroked him again. The skin along his shaft was soft yet firm, like a rose petal-encased steel rod.
He changed position, moving toward her thighs, reclining on the side of her, his hands spreading her legs. She faced his rock-hard cock, too beautiful simply to stare at, and she took hold of him, stroking and guiding the plump crown across her lips. She teased him with the tip of her tongue.
He used his mouth and tongue again like a paintbrush covering her body. Each time he stopped to suck or bite her skin, she inhaled sharply. He traced the outline of her pussy, teasing her, and she shifted her body trying to get him to touch her intimately.
Desire spurred her to push him toward the brink of where she teetered. She held him at the base of his shaft and swiped her tongue along the ridge of his crown, mindful of stroking the sensitive underside. She swirled zigzag designs traveling up and down the length of him. She imagined he was a sumptuous Italian ice and she didn’t want to miss one drop.
His low groan turned menacing. “Take me in your mouth. Stop teasing me.”
“Ah.” She smiled. “You first. Do me.” She wet her finger and rubbed along the tight skin under the tip of his cock. She inhaled his aroma of musk and cologne. Her mouth salivated and between her legs she was engorged with need for him. She didn’t know if she wanted to suck him or fuck him more. Her mouth won out. She latched onto his crown and tasted him. Salty and tangy on her tongue.
He separated her folds with his fingers and his tongue eased between her slit. She arched and moved herself against his mouth. He clamped his hand onto her hips. He pushed her back against the bed and sucked her, his mouth doing things she’d not even imagined writing.
Claire wasn’t going to let him go unrewarded. She tongued him and alternated between rapidly swallowing his cock to slow dancing licks followed by suckling his crown with her lips. She was near to climaxing with him in her mouth. But she wanted more.
“You win. Please, Dustin.”
He laughed against her, into her, toying with her. He played with her clit with his tongue, sucked her rhythmically, fucking the hell out of her mind. He finally thrust his tongue in and out until she rained down into his mouth. She quivered, her hips flexed. She was unleashing into his mouth.
“Baby, give it to me.” He kept his mouth on her sex, lapping her as if she was the most delicious treat until she relaxed from her orgasm.
He moved and tore open a small plastic pouch. “I’ve got to get inside you.”
There was no holding him back. He was between her legs, belly to belly, and then his cock was inside her. Her legs were over his shoulders and he pumped himself, slamming against her bottom with the force of a wrecking ball. He thrust so deep he made her gasp, and then he did it again. He kept going in and out of her body, his mouth on hers, and his hands on her legs. His raw power overwhelmed her into a second orgasm, and she cried out his name.
“Claire.” He yelled out her name as if in response.
She loved the look of rapture on his face. Again and again with each thrust, his body shuddered and he groaned. He kissed the inside of her knees and unfurled her legs from his shoulders. He gave one last groan of pleasure. He settled over her body, tunneling his arms under shoulders. Both of them spent and laying still in each other’s arms.
“Stay with me tonight.”
“Yes.” She nuzzled and kissed him, melting once more under his smoldering mouth.
He moaned. He was so beautiful. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders tighter, her breasts pushed up against him, and a rugged rasp released deep inside his chest.
Chapter Fourteen
Dustin woke after Claire. A light shone in the bathroom, its glow slipping out under the closed door. He was surprised they’d slept right through the night. He stretched and felt around. Her spot was still warm on the bed. He punched the pillows against the headboard, eagerly waiting for her to come out of the bathroom. The door opened and her eyes widened seeing him sitting up in bed. He could see them doing this for the next fifty or sixty years. If she agreed. How many days was he supposed to wait when his mind was already made up?
He watched her, delighting in the sway of her hips and breasts. She wasn’t leaving Mill Spring. She said she was staying. So far they’d spent two nights together. A muscle ticked along his face and he softened the clenched lock of his jaws. He scrubbed a hand over his cheek.
“What are you thinking, Mr. Murray?” She lifted the sheet.