head bumping the wall behind me as I fell back.
He was everywhere then, his hand cradling the back of my head, gathering me in his arms, carrying me to the bed. He lay me down, ran his hands over me, all concern and gentleness, “Are you okay?” he asked, stroking my head where I had bumped it. I nodded.
“You gotta give me a minute. I’m out of practice. And I never had anything like that before.”
He smiled proudly.
“I like making you feel good.”
I scooted against his chest and looked up at him, and I kissed under his chin and his neck, “I can’t get enough. Wear me out. I want to do everything with you.” I didn’t feel vulnerable. I felt brazen, wild, like the insane orgasms he’d already given me had made me drunk on sexual power. It was too good, and I was greedy. I wanted to give him the kind of pleasure he’d given me, and mostly, I wanted more for myself. I couldn’t believe the primal connection I felt with Billy, the way he practically knew what I wanted before I realized it. Sure, he was good in bed; he had some skills, but this was deeper than that. This was some form of understanding.
I pushed him onto his back and started kissing my way down his neck and across his trap muscles, down his chest. I couldn’t believe how gorgeous he was, how much he turned me on by just being himself, by turns cocky and considerate, funny and protective and sexy. I ran my hands all over his skin just because I could. He had a tattoo on his left bicep and I enjoyed licking it, tracing it with my tongue. His fingers laced into my hair, and I got off on feeling him respond to me. He groaned when I nipped at his neck, and when I ran my hands down his six-pack, tracing every cut line, he arched his hips, writhed under my touch. I loved knowing I could affect him this way, and I wanted to make him feel more. I wanted to grip him in my hands, to suck him in my mouth, to milk him with my tight pussy.
I made myself take my time. I wrapped one hand around his cock. It was so thick that my finger and thumb couldn’t meet when I gripped him. I gasped, felt a craving to suck him, so I did. Only two pumps from my hand, spreading the wetness from the tip of his cock down his shaft, and I had him in my mouth. He groaned aloud, bucking on the bed as my hot mouth claimed him. I dragged my lips and tongue up his length and plunged him back down again. I felt the flare of my lower lips and a rush of throbbing arousal as I tasted the salt of his fluid on my tongue, as I took him deeper in my mouth, relaxing my throat to take more of that thick length. I felt the mess between my thighs, but it just made me feel more turned on. His hands tangled in my hair. He grunted, rocked against my mouth, groaned when I pulled him out and flicked my tongue over the head of his cock. He grabbed my head, dragged me physically up his body and rolled me onto my back.
Billy kissed me, the most erotic kiss of my life, questing and capturing, and the taste of my own juices on his tongue. I trembled under his hands. He parted my legs and slipped two thick fingers inside me. He pressed in and down, rubbed the heel of his hand on my mound. I gave a little squeal at the pressure, at how good it felt. He fingered me, long and hard, using every drop of my arousal to ease his way deep in my passage. His fingers filled me, his calloused fingertips curling inside me, his palm pressing down until I saw stars, his tongue working in my mouth even as those fingers plunged and rubbed and curled. I cried out into his mouth as the longest deepest orgasm of my life ripped through me. I started to scream and everything opened and bloomed inside me, a rush of hot fluid gushing over his hand and down my thighs. I wept, and he kissed me again.
He withdrew his hand from between my legs and leaned back from me, licked his fingers like it was the sweetest