I’ve never felt comfortable fully surrendering myself during sex. Or during anything. I don’t know. It’s hard to explain, but I just feel like that oneness people talk about having with another person, it doesn’t happen for me. It’s always me as a separate entity, but I don’t feel like that right now. At all. I feel like I’m already a part of Gabriel, and he’s already a part of me. It kind of freaks me out a little, how connected I feel with him.
“Here we go. Careful now. Please don’t fall off and get another giant welt on your forehead.” Gabriel stops teasing my nipple—and the rest of me by default—and lifts me onto the bed. Gently. He’s so freaking gentle. He kneels down, pushes my dress up, lifts my legs so my feet are now on his shoulders, and oh my god, he’s going to…
Wow.
His hands peel away the panties I have on. They’re not overly attractive ones. Just plain beige and seamless so they wouldn’t be visible underneath the dress. His fingers send heatwaves hotter than the sun scorching the desert up and down my legs and flooding into the rest of me. I feel like I’m being zapped with a cattle prod or something.
And then his mouth is there, on my bare skin. He’s kissing me, tasting me, and licking me down there. Is this seriously happening? I’m not sure because my brain is so scrambled right now that it’s shit at processing anything. My body, though? Oh yeah. It’s processing everything, and it’s totally on board with this. With everything that Gabriel is doing with his fingers, his tongue, and his lips. Jesus. I can feel his stubble scraping over all my sensitive skin. How is that so hot? His tongue. Gabriel’s tongue should be awarded a gold medal for what it’s doing, which is gently swirling over my clit, applying a little bit of pressure, and dancing away before repeating it over and over.
It’s hard to stay dignified when something this amazing is happening, and my hips have a mind of their own. I keep telling them to stay down, but they’re not listening. They keep pushing into Gabriel’s face, riding him in reverse. No, wait. I don’t think that’s the correct term. But whatever. They have a mind of their own, and I’m trying to help him hit the spot. Not that he’s not doing a good job because he’s doing an amazing job. Maybe I’m just reacting. I don’t freaking know. I just know it feels out of my mind amazing.
“Arghmfpfhhhh.” That’s about as close as I can get to using words. Thankfully, Gabriel knows I’m trying to encourage him, and his fingers get in on the action.
God. Do they ever. I didn’t realize a person could be so, so…ambidextrous. Except with their tongue. And their fingers. And their mouth. All at once.
I buck wildly, trying to rub all of me on just about anything I can find. Gabriel runs his finger over my entrance while his tongue circles my clit, and oh my fucking god. I don’t know what’s happening, but I know I like it. I’m making wounded animal noises in between little grunts and moans.
“Should I stop?” Gabriel raises his head.
“Why would you stop?!”
“Just checking that everything’s going okay up there.”
“If you stop, I’ll tear this dress off and strangle you with it.”
“Wow, violent. I like that.”
“I wouldn’t really,” I groan. “But if you’re not into it, you can stop. I mean, maybe I taste funny or something.” A more embarrassing statement couldn’t possibly exist.
“No, you taste absolutely amazing,” Gabriel groans. “And I’m not going to stop. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. That I’m doing it right.”
“You’re doing it right. If you keep doing it like that, I’m going to embarrass myself by setting a record for how fast someone has ever had an orgasm before.”
“In that case…”
Holy Fuck. He goes back to doing what he was doing, but this time, his finger slips inside and plies me with slow, steady thrusts while his tongue works my clit. Some inner demon comes out of me, and now I’m bucking and writhing and making really strange noises. I didn’t know it was possible for anything to feel this good. Actual sex has never even felt this amazing. Dear god, I want to cut off Gabriel’s tongue and frame it and put it on the wall. No, not seriously. Jesus. But his tongue is freaking divine, and if there’s a tongue hall of fame out there, then his deserves to be in it. Figuratively, I mean.
He keeps working me with his fingers, doing crazy things to my va-jay that I didn’t even know could be done, namely on the inside, but I guess maybe it’s more like spots. He’s hitting some pretty freaking amazing spots. His tongue. Oh, god, his tongue. I have no idea what to label what he’s doing down there. Going down isn’t the right term. Oral isn’t either. That’s such a gross sounding word anyway. More like redefining life as I know it. Pleasure as I know it. I realize there was no way I’d ever experienced actual, real pleasure before now.