now. I can’t believe I’m saying I’d rather get fucked than get head, but if he keeps doing that, I’m either going to come on his hand or take a pass and skip straight to getting boned, because I’m not going to be able to take that for long.
“Not yet,” he says, taking his fingers away, stroking my thigh. “I want you to come in my mouth.”
“Travis, please,” I say, my hands on his shoulders, gripping him.
“I’ll make it worth the wait,” he says. “I promise.”
As he hooks my leg over his shoulder, kisses the inside of my thigh, I am spread open. My legs shake from wanting him. I will do anything, anything at all to feel him against me there. There’s the slightest sensation of motion, his nose along the skin of my thigh, his tongue following, and I am moaning, pleading with him: “Please, Travis. Please, please, please now.”
His tongue is flat and strong as he starts to fuck me with it and I’m arching off the bed as he grips my hips. I’m crying, not the teary, sad kind, oh no. The throaty, “oh my fucking God what is this heaven I’m living?” kind. Three long fingers fill me as he flat-licks my clit and then sucks it into his mouth, and I am fisting the comforter so hard I’m about to tear it to shreds. As I come he opens his mouth on me and fucks me with his tongue again, holding me down on the bed until he’s licked me all the way through to the end and I’m pretty sure I won’t walk for a week now, if the complete loss of muscle control in my legs is any indicator.
You’d think that after an orgasm like that I’d feel pretty satisfied. I can see why you might think that if you didn’t have Travis on you, naked and looking like he’s a starving man and you’re the last rack of lamb on earth. He climbs back up and kisses me with the taste of myself all over him. He licks into my mouth like he’s fucking it with his tongue, too.
I reach down between us, take him in my hand and he’s hard, hard, hard. He groans in delicious agony and kisses my shoulder as I stroke him. He drags his teeth along my neck and I position him against me, getting the tip of him wet. He’s right here now, all he has to do is move, but instead he goes perfectly still and stiff all over with the tension of holding himself back.
“God, you have no idea how much I want you,” he says, his voice shaking. “All the fucking time.”
“You have me,” I say. “I’m right here.” I shift under him and move my hips to try to get him inside of me, but he pulls back and lets out a long, strained sigh.
“Emmylou, you’re going to get fucked if you keep that up. I’m not going to be able to stop myself.”
“Then don’t.”
“I don’t have a condom,” he says.
“I don’t care,” I say. “I need you.”
“Oh fuck, Emmy.” I know how hard he’s fighting himself on this, and I know I shouldn’t push it. But apparently what I know and what I feel aren’t on the same team right now. I move again and manage to get just the tip of him inside of me. He shudders with the sensation, but when I try to thrust my hips up to get him deeper, he pulls back again and this frustrates me like I can’t even tell you.
“Travis, come on, please,” I say, digging my nails into his back. “Let me have you.”
His eyes snap wide open and that’s it. He keeps them locked on mine as he pushes all the way inside with a single thrust and I’m telling you, here and now, the feel of Travis inside of me totally bare, his skin to my skin, owns me. Outright. He stills inside of me, watching my face intently as I cry out his name. What must he see? How utterly lost I am without him? How lost I am in him? How this feeling right here feels like the whole damn point of being born human? Because this is what I’m seeing on his face.
He lowers his lips to mine again and then he starts to really fuck me. So insistently. So thoroughly and so very, very well.
Within a few minutes I come, just from feeling him fill