my face, the scratch of my stubble loud against her soft palms. Down my chest they roamed with fire in their wake, down to the buckle of my pants.
Her lips disappeared, but her breath puffed against mine, a noisy pant that I matched as she tugged my belt loose with a jingle. The vibration of my zipper zinged against my cock, and once freed, the silken warmth of her hand wrapped itself around me, stroking as if her fingertips wanted a taste strictly for their own pleasure. Blindly, I reached for her face, cupped her jaw, found her nose with mine, then her lips for a kiss. But her hands didn’t stop their slow path up my shaft, cupping my crown before sliding down once more. Her fingers fanned each time they finished the circuit, brushing my sack with gentle authority.
My fingers slipped into her hair and tightened, tugging to tilt her face, to moan around her tongue, into her mouth, down her throat. But still, she didn’t stop. My feet were planted, knees locked—if they hadn’t been, I feared they would have buckled. Her mouth moved in time with her fist and fingers, drawing that feeling from deep in my belly, from low in my base.
Again, her mouth disappeared, this time with the lowering of her body too fast to be considered anything but desperate. As if she needed me, every inch of me, for herself. A tug of my pants, and they slid down my thighs, one hand still clutching my shaft, angling it toward her lips—I could feel her breath against my crown, a pulse of desire flexing through me at the sensation. Anticipation was thick, my hands smoothing her hair, sweeping it over her shoulder, gathering it in my fist to keep it out of the way. Without sight, I waited with anxious breath tight in my lungs for the moment of contact. But the truth of the feeling was beyond my imagination—a wet, warm taste. The flat of her tongue in the ridge of my crown. The very tip of me in the humid chamber of her mouth before it closed around me. And when I could breathe again, it was with a shaky sigh.
My senses exploded, raw and attuned and humming. The hot hollow of her mouth, the feel of her tongue, the soft pull of suction, her hand fisted at my base, shifting in time to the motion of her neck. Her silky hair in my hand, the curve of her neck under my palm, the line of her jaw against my thumb. The sound of her breath and of mine, the wet kiss of her mouth, the hum from deep in her throat, an answering hum of my own.
It was an eternity. It was a heartbeat. And I would wait for her no longer.
With a flex, I retreated, surprising a gasp out of her. I urged her to stand with my hands on her face, taking her lips the second I could find them in the darkness. Tasted the salt of my body until it mingled into the taste of us. Threaded an arm around her waist, moving blindly for the bed. Delicately, I laid her down, slipping my thigh between hers to pin her hips. But they wouldn’t stay still whether I desired it or not, shifting slow circles and waves to use the weight of my body to apply pressure where she wanted it, needed it. I propped on my elbow, my free hand worked her clothes, and her hands joined the task. First the suit coat, shrugged off and disappearing into the void of blackness. Then the small buttons of her shirt, too dainty for my big, clumsy fingers. I kissed her as she made easy work of them, taking the opportunity to unbutton her pants, to slip my fingers into the space between her hip and the fabric, to drag them over the swell and down her thighs. With a shimmy, they were gone, as was her shirt. And on inspection by my hungry hands, her bra was gone too.
Naked before me in the utter darkness. Filling my palm with soft flesh. Breathing her breath, the drum of her heart against my fingertips.
My lips parted with hers in favor of her jaw. Her neck. The hollow of her throat. Her breast in my palm, tight peak brushing my lips. A flick of my tongue. Then a sweep. Then a deep draw. A sigh, her fingers in my hair