He started by kicking his jeans and boxers off first and then moved to pull my pants from around my legs. He grinned at the sight.
“Green’s my favorite color.” My thong was a bright shade of neon green, Viper’s green, to be specific. “Did you do it on purpose?” I bit my lip and smiled, and he closed his eyes and gave a little shake. “Well, these will have to stay, then.”
Zeke ducked his head between my legs and pulled the fabric of my underwear to one side. I inhaled, and when I felt the heat of his tongue, the exhale was a loud moan. It was different from the tastes he’d taken of me back at my place. Those had been quick experimenting. This time, Zeke laid on his stomach and settled in. He alternated between fast and slow speeds, bounced between my hole and sweet spot up top, and got his fingers involved. Minutes bled together until time felt like one long, continuous moment.
By the time my first orgasm hit me, my second one was already lining up, ready to jump in, and my third was on deck. I lost count of the number of times I screamed his name or let swear words escape my lips. My legs turned to jelly, and I was totally at his mercy. He could have asked me to jump right out the window, and I probably would have. When another orgasm crashed over me, Zeke was finally ready to move on. He came up and gave me a wolfish lick of his lips.
“Delicious.”
I couldn’t respond. The words that might have tried to come out wouldn’t have cleared my mess of a head and would have only been incoherent mumbles. Instead, I held out my arms, and Zeke crawled over me again, setting his heated flesh against mine. He didn’t need a hand to work himself inside. Our pieces found each other like supercharged magnets, and we both cried out at the feeling. Zeke pressed his lips to mine, and I swerved my hips. Zeke grabbed my legs and held them in a way that restricted my movement.
He pulled away and shook his head. “I told you. I’m taking my time.”
It was borderline frustrating, but I trusted Zeke to do what needed to be done. He’d already given me more pleasure in a single day than all of my former lovers combined, so if he wanted to move at a pace that was his own, I was going to let him. He hadn’t failed me so far.
He sat up and started in and out of me in slow, drawn-out movements. My mind threatened to short circuit as I could feel all of him, pulling out and dragging in. It was exquisite, and my legs shook. On occasion, he would pick up the pace, bring me right to the edge, and then back off, leaving me moaning and crying out for more. It was the best and worst game of chutes and ladders. Every time I moved my piece ten steps forward, thinking that one more turn was going to bring me across the finish line, I’d land on a slide and fall two rows down. The optimal difference was that climbing the ladders felt as good as the falling slides did. Every time I stood at the precipice only to not achieve the final pleasure, my body grew more sensitive, more impatient. It made each move feel infinitely better than the last.
Finally, Zeke smiled down at me. My mind was too much a mush to read it, but he picked up his pace, moving faster and faster until he was slapping against me. His eyes drifted close, as did mine, and he pressed on. I climbed one ladder and another and another until my piece finally spilled across the finish line. The noises that came out of both Zeke and me were animalistic and raw, and all at once, Zeke snatched himself out of me, just in time for me to feel the dripping of him splashing forth.
He stayed in place for a moment, shuddering and groaning while my orgasm made sure that every inch of me had felt it before it finally went away.
Finally, Zeke rolled to his back and looked over at me. “Shit.”
I nodded. “Uh-huh. That’s what you miss when you’re drunk.”
He laughed. “I may never drink again.”
He stayed flat on his back next to me, so I curled around until I could lay back against his stomach. An