he said roughly as I gasped for air. Jesus, I couldn’t say anything at all. Nor did I even think I knew how to speak the English language anymore.
He stopped, stilling his fingers, pulling his mouth away. Everything in me was so tense, dangling on a precipice and he was toying with me, making me wait. I lifted my arm to reach so I could finish myself off with my hand. He batted it away easily. “Say it, Kat.”
My tongue dragged over cracked lips, and the blood blistered in my veins. Unable to focus on anything beyond the sweet pervasive ache. I was so close to that quivering elusive edge. So close. “Lucas,” I breathed.
He licked me again, and I cried out. So hot and yet not quite there. Not enough pressure, not enough contact. “Not enough,” I breathed.
He laughed. It was a dry laugh. He seemed to be enjoying the level of control he had over me and were I not so overcome, I would have been annoyed. I moved my hand again to touch myself and he caught my wrist.
“Say you’re mine,” he ground out.
My eyes flew open in shock and my legs tensed.
“Lucas…”
He lowered his head to suck on me once more and my eyes rolled back into my head, eyelids fluttering. Here it came. On a monster wave that was about to crash down and swallow me whole. Oh God. Fuck. Yes. Yes. I’m yours, Lucas. I’m yours. Make me come. Make me come.
My body convulsed, driven to the heights of pleasure. Gasping, I sucked in air as if I’d been holding my breath for hours. A rush of pleasure and bliss and exhausted euphoria rained down on me like droplets of mist on a perfect autumn morning in the Pacific Northwest. Every ounce of tension drained from me.
I stared up at the plastered trim on the old-fashioned canted ceiling. What. The. Fuck. Had. Just. Happened?
Lucas straightened and stared down at me inquisitively with an almost arrogant curl at the end of his lip. As if he were quite pleased with himself for having made me lose my mind. And for having done it so fast.
Right now, lying here and feeling like I had bones and muscles made out of jelly, I quite agreed that he had the right to be a bit arrogant. Dude had skills. What else could he do with even more interesting parts of his body than just his mouth?
Slowly I propped myself up on my elbows while he quietly tugged the hem of my skirt to cover me once again. He avoided my gaze and with a heavy sigh turned to flop tiredly on the nearby couch.
I blinked. He had nothing to say after that? Where had this even come from? Last I knew, he’d been annoyed with me and practically two-fisting whiskey down his pie-hole as fast as he could swallow it.
But I’d gotten a killer orgasm out of it so who was I to protest? And the least I could do was offer to reciprocate because… if I was being honest with myself, I really wanted to. Not to mention that fact that after six months of marriage, I was beyond curious to see what kind of weapon my husband was packing.
The thought made my heart speed as a fresh wave of hot arousal seeped through my languid, satiated body. Swallowing, I sat up and carefully slid off the piano.
He was slumped awkwardly across the couch, so I came up behind him and kissed his neck, running my tongue along his ear. “My turn for a taste of that cock you were just pressing against me.”
He let out a low groan, head falling to the side, and I moved around to kneel before him on the couch. Hungrily, I tugged down his fly, struggling at first to pull it taut so the zipper would move. He was silent and, despite my struggles, didn’t help me. I made sure to slip an extra grope in the process. He was still rock hard and a surge of excitement rose up in my throat.
He was not going to one-up me in the oral sex satisfier department. Here was my chance to show him why my fellatio skills were considered well above average. Soon he’d be grinding and gasping under the power of my mighty wonder-tongue.
I tried slipping my hand in through his fly but that was awkward, so I unbuttoned his pants. And just as I was about to set eyes on