He continued his assent up my body. Licking my hip bone, then biting as he made his way to my chest.
I looked down at him, then at the ceiling, then down again. I wanted to see all of it. All of him. From every angle. His torso was now between my legs, his head at my breasts, and his rock hard ass in the mirror verses his perfect face were hard to choose between.
My issue of trying to decide where to look must have been obvious, because he said, “Don’t worry. I’ll give you time to view both.”
He closed his lips around my nipple in a deep suck that was so hard it bordered on pain. But I liked it. It felt so good. As if I needed to walk the naughty edge of too much and not enough.
“You’re sensitive here,” he said, biting the rosy peak, while swirling his finger around my breast.
“I suppose I am.”
“Mmmm,” he groaned, when he took the other in his mouth and suckled just as hard.
Each draw took more of my flesh into his mouth, causing more tingles to spread over my body. My hands flew to his head, my fingers threading in his hair.
“Yes.” I never knew how good this could feel.
Was this normal for women? To be so turned on by merely their breasts being licked? To be on the edge of internal combustion just from feeling skin against skin? Maybe it was Jack and his skill. Maybe I was sensitive. Whatever the reason, the fact remained that my body was not only turning on, but accelerating in a way I didn’t know how to handle.
So much heat shot from my nipples to my core and back. I stared at the ceiling—at us. At Jack’s beautiful skin covering mine. He told me once to do what felt natural. So I did. I rocked into him.
Praying his mouth stayed where it was, I ground my wet, aching clit against his torso. Over and over, rubbing myself along his hard stomach, while his mouth latched on to my breasts and sucked deeper.
Sparks ignited and increased this want—no—this need to feel him more. To give in to the fire that was taking over every cell of my being.
“You feel good,?
?? he said. “Getting a little eager. You want more, baby?”
“Yes.”
He reached one hand between us, and I thought he was going to make me stop moving, but he didn’t. Instead, he speared me with two fingers, and I gasped, my hands gripping his hair tighter.
“Jesus, you’re tight.”
I stopped moving, stilling my hips as uncertainty engulfed me. Was that bad? Good? I didn’t know what to do or how to respond.
His head snapped up and met my eyes. “Did I tell you to stop?”
“N-no.”
“Then, why did you?” He twisted the fingers inside of me, then flicked a sensitive spot I didn’t know existed, making me instantly arch and moan. “I thought you wanted more.” He flicked again, and I begged for just that.
“I do. I’m sorry. I won’t stop again.”
“Good.” Keeping his fingers deep, he returned to suck my nipples. He didn’t move his hand though. He was waiting for me to move against him.
This was another moment of amazement. He kept a solid rein with control and guided the situation. He told me the position to lay in, but he was patient in letting me explore, not only him and his touch, but myself. He understood me and my needs. On a deeper level than I could explain. Amongst other wild emotions flaring through me, I was also grateful to have such an intuitive partner.
On a shaky breath, I watched our reflection and started moving. Slowly at first, grinding against his fingers and moving my hips up and down, then I tired swirling a little. Each movement hit a different spot inside.
Despite his blunt words and consuming touch, he was allowing me to figure out what I liked. How I moved. What I wanted. All while being the one to control my pleasure.
The feeling, the touch, the heat…it was consuming.
“More,” I whispered, my chest feeling heavy for a different reason altogether. I wanted to wrap myself around this man in every way. Feel all he was. Finally let go of everything, the past, my thoughts, and just focus on him.
“I decide when you get more,” he rasped, and took his fingers from me. Bringing them back to my breast, he spread the moisture from my arousal around my nipple, then sucked again. “I’m not done tasting this sweet skin or this sweet cream.”