I’m probably going to have a few finger sized bruises tomorrow but I really don’t care. He’s not hurting me. It feels too good to be classed as any kind of pain.
“Nathan,” I mutter as he kisses a trail down my neck, his hand gripping the bottom of my dress.
He pulls it up and over my head, throwing it behind him without a thought. I lie on the bed of pillows on my back, my legs bent either side of him.
“I want to see you.” His voice is as breathy as mine. His eyes linger on my breasts, which are hidden behind a lacy black nursing bra. It’s not my favourite one, but at this point in time I don’t care. “All of you.” Fingertips touch the hollow at the base of my throat, then trail down over the swell of my right breast. He lightly circles the nipple through the fabric, watching as it pebbles from his touch, pressing through the fabric like it wants to break free. He moves to the left one and does the same. I throw my head back and groan, his featherlike touches doing more to me than they should.
Both hands grasp me, massaging my heavy globes softly. He watches them as he does this, almost mesmerised by what he’s doing and seeing. Once he’s done playing with me through my bra, he trails the edges of his nails across my skin, over the band of my bra to the hook at the back. Seconds later it’s unhooked and he’s gently sliding it from my shoulders before letting it fall on the ground.
He leans back again, just staring, no words spoken. Only our breathing can be heard and both of us are breathing heavily.
I daren’t reach for him. I want to, my fingers ache to touch him, but something tells me I need to let him do this at his pace. So I do. I wait, allowing him time to run his fingers over every inch of my torso as if burning it to memory.
Lips and a warm wet tongue trail down the centre of my chest before he sits back on his knees. His hands help me out of my shoes; they pull off my socks and finally slide my fabric skirt from my body. I lie before him in nothing but a pair of black lace knickers that cover less than they showed on the mannequin in the store. My arse is definitely not a small one.
Dragging his hands up my calves and thighs, I’m relieved when he finally grips my lace knickers and slides them off too. Now he starts moving back up, his lips and tongue leading the way, his body brushing against mine.
Just seeing him peruse me again, leaning back slightly so he can see all of me, his eyes heated and sharp, taking in every inch of me, makes me feel like I’m the only woman on Earth. I should feel vulnerable and exposed, but the way he’s holding himself, the way he’s breathing, the way his lips are parted and his eyes are devouring me, I feel nothing but beautiful, powerful and magnificent. I don’t remember ever feeling this way before.
He cups my arse with both hands as his mouth moves over mine again. A squeal escapes me when I’m suddenly flipped onto my front and his mouth is on my neck. I lick my lips, wiping away the taste of him with my tongue.
“Nathan?” I question as one of his hands grasps at my aching breasts, his movements no longer slow and sweet, but rough and needy. I like the change, I’m just not sure if I like the direction I’m facing.
My ears pick up the sound of a zipper and his skilful hand continues teasing my skin, grabbing me, stroking me. Goose pimples break out over my flesh.
His hands are gone from my body and I hear the cause of this sudden abandonment - a foil wrapper being opened. I watch him over my shoulder. His eyes are looking down at his hands as he rolls the condom onto his substantial length. I can’t see it and I really want to. I want to touch him, why are we doing it in this position? I want to look in his eyes.
“You’re beautiful, Gwen,” he says into my ear, his chest against my back, his body bending forward slightly, forcing mine to do the same. I grip the edges of the pillows under my hands, wondering why he won’t let me turn and wrap my legs around him. A tremble flows through me when his hand comes up to circle my neck from the front, his forefinger curving over my jaw. I feel his hot length at my entrance, his free hand placing it directly over the opening. “You mean everything to me.” He tells me to my eyes and my heart swells.
I nod, gulping at the same time, before wetting my drying lips with my tongue. “You mean everything to me too.”
He pushes inside slowly. Far too slowly. Only the head is in and the ache is almost unbearable. It’s a pleasurable ache mixed with a small amount of pain as he stretches me.
It’s been too long. Far too long.
He pulls out, leaving only the tip inside. Shudder.
“Are you okay?” He asks, the concern in his voice turning my heart into a puddle.
Smiling slightly, I nod and reach over my shoulder to caress his face. He leans into it and places a gentle kiss on the palm of my hand. Seconds later I let out a groan, not one of pain either, as he slams inside. Only half way, but Christ it feels good.
“Still okay?” He asks, moving in and out, each thrust getting more powerful but never going in to the hilt.
His hands that were holding my hips leave me for a moment. They return seconds later and I instantly recognise the feel of leather covering his fingers. I’m about to comment when he places two fingers over my clit and rubs in fast circles, his hips speeding up but still never allowing his solid length to enter me fully.
Again, I’m in a state where I don’t care about the gloves or the fact he’s still dressed, or the fact we’re doing this all wrong. It feels too good.
No.
He feels too good.
Nathan grips my breast, pulling me back against his chest so my arms are no longer holding me up. I twist my head so he can kiss me, allowing him to swallow the moans that escape me. He doesn’t go back to kissing my neck when I lean forward, gripping the pillows once more. I wonder if this is because of the perspiration that is now covering my skin.
I try to push my hips back towards him, wanting to feel him deeper. It doesn’t work. He places a hand on my lower back, stopping me from pushing into him anymore. Why won’t he go inside? This burning is driving me crazy. I need more, just a little bit more.
“Please, Nathan, harder,” I pant, my head falling forward, my shame gone.
“Can’t,” he bites out and my eyes fly open. I want to look at him, so I turn my head as far as possible and peer at him through the corner of my eye. His torso is straight, his eyes clenched shut and his teeth biting into his lower lip.
My swollen clit begins to throb. I feel it pulse as a strong familiar burning sensation spreads through my body. I feel it in my feet, in my calves, my thighs, my arms, and directly behind my eyes, where it pops over and over again. It’s coming, I can feel it. If he’d just go deeper...
“Come on, baby,” he whispers, his tone demanding and forceful in my ear. “Let go.”
“Can’t.” I repeat what he said to me moments ago.
“I can’t last much longer,” he warns and slows his thrusting. “You feel too good.”
“Go harder,” I order, placing my hand over his on my clit.
“Christ,” he breathes, his eyes widening a fraction. “So tight.” His lips tilt up at the edges. I scowl. Why’s he teasing me?
My forehead hits the mattress as a sharp tingle hits me in my core and pools in my lower stomach.
“Deeper,” I beg.
He ignores me, so I muster what little strength I have to look at him again. Seeing his brows furrow in pleasure, listening to his quiet moans and heavy breaths, feeling him tense with each shallow thrust, it tips me over the edge. I press his fingers hard onto my swollen nub and try my hardest to push back onto him.