I bent down and drew one nipple into my mouth. Her hands crept into my hair. Encouraged, I brought one hand up to cup the neglected nipple. I rolled one nipple with my tongue and lips, and plucked and tugged the other with my fingers.
The other hand I placed on her bare, silky thigh. No signs of resistance met me; instead, her legs opened slightly. I accepted the silent invitation to move upward, pushing the denim skirt as I moved to expose more of her tender flesh. The lace fabric between her thighs was wet and the metal snaps gave way to my questing fingers. I rubbed her gently, petting her until she raised up to meet my hand to force a harder pressure. I slipped one finger inside of her.
So very tight. I groaned against her breast. Carefully, I pushed the other finger inside of her. I kissed her then, my tongue invading her mouth with the same rhythm my fingers pumped into her. I curled my fingers upward, feeling for that soft spongy flesh of her G spot.
I knew I found it when her body tensed against mine. When she made to move away from the unfamiliar sensation, I blocked her with my thighs, settling my cock against the back of my hand, rubbing against myself as I stroked her. I teased and caressed her with every skill I had ever possessed. I kissed her with every ounce of energy inside me. I felt her body tense; her thighs closed hard around my hand. Her fingernails dug into my shoulders, and I reveled in the pain.
I could come this way, but I didn’t want to. I thought of marching in the desert. Of my finance exam. Of cleaning up after the rager downstairs. I kept stroking her until I felt her release rush down my fingers onto my palm and heard the sweet, soft cries of her orgasm ring in the night air.
“I promise to admire this later, but this thing has to come off,” I told her. She nodded mutely at me but didn’t move. Her eyes were filled with wonder. Not just a virgin, I thought with fierce pleasure, but no one had ever made her come. Or at least not that hard.
I wrestled her skirt off and tried to remove the laces. Eventually she helped me push the lace and ribbon concoction off. Her body was flushed from passion. I stroked my hands all over, touching her throat, molding her breasts into peaks for my voracious mouth. I tongued, sucked, and licked one and then the other.
Moving lower until my head rested between her legs, I kissed her and then spread her wide. She made a weak sound of protest that I ignored. I had to taste her. Her lower lips were plump and wet. Remnants of her orgasm glinted in the faint bathroom light. I laid the broad flat of my tongue against her and gave one long, languorous lick. Delicious. I could eat her all night, and some day I would. But tonight I wanted to make her come, just one more time. My hard cock was so ready for her that I feared I would break in two before I could sink it inside of her.
I held her thighs apart and ate at her. Her musky scent filled my nose and her taste on my tongue made me want to spill. I slipped two fingers inside her again, working her with my fingers and tongue until I felt her convulse again. Now she was ready.
Grace
I felt like my mind had splintered into a thousand pieces, like I had become a collection dust mites, just a hundred particles floating in the air.
Noah shifted, and I heard the crinkle of a wrapper. His fingers slid back down between my legs, circling and pressing until my breath hitched, and I cried out softly in desire. His gaze was wicked now, and he made no effort to quiet me even though there were nearly a hundred people downstairs. As he slid one and then two fingers inside me, I turned my head to the side and bit into the fleshy part of my hand. He laughed and crouched over me. “Afraid someone might hear you?” he whispered in my ear. The hot wash of his breath made me shiver. His fingers kept stroking me and in the quiet I could hear how wet he was making me. He was learning me with each stroke. What turned me on, what made me weak with want.
He pulled my fist away from my face and laced our fingers together, holding them flat against the bed. His other hand was still thrusting and rubbing between my legs. I began to sob softly, wanting so desperately another release. “I don’t care who fucking hears you when I make you come,” he said. With his words, I did, and a cry escaped me. Noah’s lips were sucking on my earlobe, then my neck, biting into my shoulder as I came again. He cupped me until my breath evened out.
He slid his fingers from me, and I could see they were wet, slick with my desire. He rubbed his sheathed cock with his fingers and then dipped inside for more lubrication. His long fingers curved around his girth, pulling hard at his length.
In the dim light, I could see the skin of Noah’s cheeks pulled taut. I pleaded with him, not sure if I wanted to be the one stroking him or just wanted him inside me. “Please, Noah, please,” I moaned. He was out of reach for me, sitting almost perpendicular to my body in repose.