“So you did.”
She stands, robbing me of her touch and her breasts, and drops her dress on the floor. Her lace panties are part of a matching set. I cradle her ass and place my mouth over the cotton panel covering her pussy, inhale the intoxicating vanilla musk scent clinging to her skin. Massaging her butt cheeks, I bite the material before clutching it with both hands and yanking it down.
She’s bared before me. A beautiful sight. I slide my tongue between her folds to taste the heart of her. Craning my head I look up to find her pink cheeks brightening, her peach-colored nipples tightening. Her hands are in my hair, pulling hard, so I do my job and I do it well.
When I find her clit, I zero in on the spot. I hold her hips steady but bring her as close as I can to my seeking tongue. Boldly, she lifts one leg and rests her foot on the couch while riding my face. I was right. She needs this.
I slow my ministrations to test her reaction. She tugs my hair harder.
“Tell me,” I murmur, her dampness on my lips.
“I’m close,” she pants. “Please don’t stop.”
“Not a chance.” I squeeze her ass. “You want faster?”
“Yes. And flatten your tongue.”
“Yes, ma’am.” She likes having control. So do I. But in her case I’ll make an exception. Her orgasm is a trophy, and I intend to take first place.
I experiment with cupping her ass before moving my hand along her seam. I slip one finger inside, gentling her open. The sounds she makes are heavenly. A high-pitched gasp here. A fast exhalation there. Followed by a series of machine-gun-rapid yes-yes-yeses.
Sliding my finger in and out, I watch for her O face. She’s not there yet, but she’s watching me with lust-blown pupils.
“I want you to come,” I instruct. “I want to taste you.”
She offers a jerky nod as sexy little pants of excitement escape her still-open mouth. I return to my work in earnest, lapping at her clit while she swivels her hips and pulls my hair.
I feel her release before I taste her; a full body jolt that weakens her knees. A shake works its way up her legs and along her torso. I drink her in as she tips her head back, letting out a gusty exhalation followed by a reverent, “Oh, God.”
Call me egomaniacal, but there is no better praise for my hard work than an “oh, God.”
She loosens her hold on my hair and right when I expect her to fall bonelessly onto my sofa, she surprises me again.
“Take off your pants.” She doesn’t wait, but drops to her knees and tugs at my trousers. I kick off my shoes and peel off my socks while she yanks the material to my knees. Before I can take off my pants too, my cock is being sucked.
She wraps me in her hot mouth, suckling the tip gently before running her tongue along the ridge. I grunt in shock, my mind blanking of anything but the sensation of her wet heat on me. Fingers in her hair, I don’t pull and tug the way she did. Instead, I sweep the length of it away from her striking face. I watch her mouth work me—a heady sight.
She takes me deep before releasing me, her wet lips sliding along the shaft. A hiss of excitement streams through my teeth as my hips pivot on their own. I have the idea she’s trying to even the score—reclaim some of the control she lost.
I’m not going to miss the opportunity to be inside her by finishing in her mouth. Cupping her chin, I ease her off my cock, memorizing the vision of the glistening length leaving her plump lips.
“I have to be inside you,” I tell her, my voice a dry rasp.
She raises an eyebrow in challenge. “Hmm. What do you saaaay?”
My nostrils flare in frustration. The fight for control continues.
“Please,” I growl.
She’s satisfied by that bit of groveling, but not as satisfied as she’s about to be. I roughly yank off my pants and fish a condom from my wallet—a condom I put there in case I happened upon one Vivian Vandemark tonight and successfully wooed her in my family’s rose garden.
Score.
She snatches the condom and tears the packet open with her teeth. I watch, rapt, as she rolls it on me, her fingers working quickly while my balls draw up in heady anticipation.
When she moves her leg to climb over me, I don’t let her. Instead, I lay her back to the couch and I’m on top of her before she knows what hit her. She blinks up at me, the heat in her eyes prevalent. I put that heat there. Me.
“What do you say?” I ask, nuzzling her nose with mine.
Her breathing is erratic but she presses her lips together, refusing to give in. I tease her opening with the head of my dick as her breaths grow choppy. She wants me, but is too stubborn to beg. Pride, she’ll find, is a fool’s game.
“Vivian.” I give her a gentle nuzzle and smile. “Give us what we need.”
Her expression softens and she whispers, “Please.”
Finally.
I tilt my hips and slide past her slick folds. Deeper, deeper, as her neck arches. I’m seated to the hilt, her tight channel gripping me. Her breasts brush my chest, her fingernails dig into my shoulders.
“Please, please,” she says now, compliant. Her eyelids squeeze shut as pain-pleasure pleats etch into her forehead.
The oh, God was great, but the multiple pleases might be better. I’m high on the fact she surrendered her control while my own erodes. I was intent on bringing her to the pinnacle but even under me she’s taking me for a ride as well.
Before I regain some much-needed control, she’s squeezing me from within, writhing beneath me while I rut her into the pillows. One falls and hits the floor, another squishes behind her head and into the corner. I slam into her when she demands, “Harder, harder.”
Right when I’m about to pass out from oxygen deprivation, she shouts my name. One wheezy, weakened, breathy Nate. It’s fucking amazing.
Her orgasm hits her a millisecond before my release splits me at the core, rattling my teeth and igniting my spine. I drop my head to her shoulder and catch my breath, my steamy exhalations on her neck.
Her hands go to my hair again, but she doesn’t pull. She delivers a few loving, gentle strokes. Then she makes a request as unexpected as this entire encounter.
“Give me your weight.” She kisses my ear. “I like it.”
I obey without a moment’s hesitation, lowering my arms and smashing her into the couch. She hums, pleased, and continues to stroke my hair.
Chapter Eleven
Vivian
Dire need. That was my state when I arrived here.
Sated bliss. That’s my current state.
I blame sleeping with him on my being alone for a good, long while. I’ve been as chaste and well-behaved as I could over the last several years, but this year in particular I stepped it up. I’ve been an angel. It just so happens even angels have their limits.
Then again, no other man has been able to bring out my wild side. Nate is charming and attentive. So good-looking it’s criminal. So undeniably male, each and every cell of my body leans toward him when he’s near. I wanted what his kiss promised in the rose garden. And, damn, it was better than I imagined.
The sex was so good I wanted to savor it—make it last the night. I could have ridden out a dozen of those orgasms if I was in fighting condition. My bout of celibacy didn’t do me any favors. I gave it all and left no room for more. As they say, all good things must come to an end.