starting at the center of my being and working its way out.
Simon was most certainly enjoying this. His eyes were hazy and crowded with lust as I writhed underneath him. I knew he could feel me tense
and come alive.
“God, Caroline, you’re so…you’re beautiful,” he murmured, his eyes now crowding with something a bit more than lust, and I felt tiny pinpricks
behind my eyebal s.
I threw my arms around his neck and held him close, tearing at his shirt to get it off, get it off him so I could feel everything. He lifted himself from
me for only seconds, ripping off his shirt in an exaggerated way that made me giggle but yearn for him even more.
Lowering himself back on to me, he slipped further down, his lips tracing a path down to my bel y button. Circling it with his tongue, he laughed
into my tummy.
“What are you laughing at, mister?” I giggled, squeezing his ear. He was below the nightie now, his face hidden from me. Poking his head
back out, he let loose a slow grin that made my toes point.
“If your bel y button tastes this good—fuck, Caroline. I can’t wait to taste your pussy.”
There are certain things a woman needs to hear at different times in her life:
You got the job.
Your ass looks great in that skirt.
I would love to meet your mother.
And when used in the just the right context, in just the right setting, sometimes, a woman needs to hear the P-word.
This could be better than Clooney.
The moan that came out of my mouth when he said that word, wel , let’s just say it was loud enough to wake the dead. He let his tongue trace a
path from my bel y button down to the edge of my ruffles, and then with loving precision, he hooked his thumbs underneath the lace and dragged
them down my legs.
There I was, spread out on top of Pil owTown with a pink nightie bunched up around my midriff, al pertinent parts on display, and damn happy
about it. He pul ed my hips just to the edge of the bed and dropped to his knees. Sweet Jesus.
As he ran his hands up and down the tops of my legs, I lifted up on my elbows so I could watch, needing to see this wonderful man tending to
me, taking care of me. Kneeling between my thighs, with his khakis unbuckled and halfway unzipped, hair at atomic heights, he was stunning. And
on the move.
Once again letting his tongue lead, he planted open-mouth kisses along the insides of my thighs, one side and then the other, with each pass
getting closer and closer to where I needed him most. Careful y lifting my left leg, he hitched it over his shoulder as I arched my back, my entire body
now aching to feel him.
He gazed at me for a moment longer, maybe even just a few seconds, but it felt like a lifetime. “Beautiful,” he breathed one more time, and then
he pressed his mouth to me.
No quick licks, no tiny kisses, just incredible pressure as he surrounded me with his lips. It was enough to make me drop back on the bed,
unable to support myself any longer. The feel, the exquisite feel of him was al -consuming, and I could barely breathe. He worked me slow and low,
bringing one hand up to open me further to him, letting his mouth and fingers and perfect tongue gently and methodical y coax me into the
stratosphere, rising up, fil ing me with the sense of awe and amazement I had been missing for so long.
I al owed one hand to drift down to him and tangle in his hair, running my fingers through it with as much feeling as I could. The other hand?
Useless. It was fisting the sheets into some kind of bal .
He lifted his head from me once, just once, to press another kiss against my thigh. “Perfect. Jesus, just perfect,” he whispered, so quietly I
could barely hear him over my own sighs and whimpers. He returned to me almost immediately, an urgency now to his movements, his lips and
tongue twisting and pressing as he groaned into me, the vibration riding straight through.
I opened my eyes for a second, just a second, and the room was glowing, almost incandescent. Al of my senses came alive, and I could hear
the crashing of the surf, see the candlelight flickering on our bodies. I could feel my skin break into gooseflesh, the very air caressing me and
announcing what I had been missing for months, years even.
This man could very possibly love me. And he was about to bring back the O.
Snapping my eyes closed again, I could almost see myself, standing at the edge of a cliff, staring down into the raging ocean below. Pressure,
enormous pressure was building behind me, nudging me toward the edge where I could fal , fal freely into what was waiting for me. I took one step,
then another, closer and closer as I could feel Simon grasping my hips. But wait. If the O was coming for me, I wanted Simon inside. I
needed him
inside me.
Tugging on his shoulders, I pul ed him up my body, feet kicking at his khakis until they lay defenseless on the floor.