I choke off the rest of that thought because it won’t do either one of us any good voicing it. Right here, her glistening, pretty, swollen pussy. These powerful, toned legs. The evidence of the passion we share. That’s what we have. And it’d be greedy and unfair to even dream of more.
So, not only am I going to take what I can, I’m going to gorge on it.
On a groan, I dive into her.
Her taste explodes on my tongue, redefining my palate. I’ve dined in the finest restaurants, sipped the rarest wines, sampled the richest delicacies, and none of them compare to Lennon. Sweet, earthy with a tang that’s pure desire, I can’t get enough.
Flattening my tongue, I lick a path up her folds, lingering a minute to worship each one, draw them into my mouth, tease them. Every crease and inch of her receives my attention before I move to her clit. Pushing back the hood, I blow on it, savor the tiny quiver it gives, then circle it. Tenderly, at first. At first. Because there’s nothing soft about the lust roaring inside me right now. Nothing gentle about the pounding of my cock that’s demanding I put us all out of this torture. Fuck that. I want her crying, sobbing my name as she comes.
I want to break her pussyandher.
Shifting a hand lower, I thrust three fingers inside her, knowing she can take it.
“King,” she breathes, one hand clutching my hair, holding me to her as her hips buck, riding my mouth and my hand, and the other pressed to the couch.
Her face twists into a mask of painful pleasure, and it’s not enough. She has more to give me. I know this body. I’ve loved this body.
“You got more, baby. Give it to me,” I push, shoving hard inside her, licking her clit until it flinches under my firm strokes. “Fuck me. Fuck my face and hand, Lennon. Don’t hold back.” I curl my fingertips against that smooth place high in her pussy, rubbing, rubbing…
A sob rips from her, and God, that had to hurt her throat. But she throws her head back, her hips bearing down on me with short, rough jerks.
“That’s it, sweetheart. That’s it,” I praise.
Her pussy clamps down on my fingers in a bruising grip, and I have to fight my way to ride her through the orgasm. Keeping a steady suck on her clit, I give her every bit of this release, still pushing, still demanding she gives me everything. Gifts herself with the same.
“Oh God, enough, please.” She whimpers, shoving at my head and trying to close her thighs.
But hell no, I’m not having none of that.
“I’ve made a mess of you,” I murmur, pressing a lingering kiss to her swollen flesh. “It’s my job to clean you up.”
And I take my time doing it, licking all the wet off her inner thighs, her folds, her mound. When I finish, I sit back with a hum, pleasure a buzz just under my skin, in my blood.
“Now you’re the mess.” She swipes a finger over my beard and holds it up, the tip gleaming.
“Mine.” I grasp her wrist and bring her finger to my mouth, curl my tongue around it and suck it clean. “C’mon.”
Tugging her from the couch, I head for the hallway, only pausing to grab my hoodie and wipe my mouth and beard. I lead her to the bedroom and we barely clear the door before I turn and remove her sweater and bra, leaving her completely naked.
“My turn.” She swats my hands away from my jeans and undoes the button and lowers the zipper. Scrunching her nose, she tilts her head. “Do you ever wear underwear?”
I arch an eyebrow. “Are you complaining?”
“For the sake of expediency, no. It’s very rock ‘n’ roll of you. But later we’re going to talk about this.” She chuckles, and my chest tightens to hear the breathless quality to it. Tugging down my jeans to the middle of my thighs, she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip as my cock springs free. “Later.”
Cradling the back of her neck, I draw her closer as I kick free of the denim and close my mouth over hers. Without breaking our kiss, I hike her onto the bed and crawl on top of her, slowly lowering my weight. I can’t contain my sigh. Back on the hill, had been explosive.
This…
This is no less explosive, but it’s so much more. It’s a homecoming.
Because I haven’t been completely naked with a woman in nearly a decade. Shifted clothes, jerked down pants—enough to get in and get off. The one time I did, about a year after I arrived in L.A., I fucking cried like a baby. This intimacy belongs only to Lennon. And as we lie here, skin to skin, flesh to flesh, it’s like entering a house of worship after a long hiatus. Reverence. Acceptance.
Relief.
“Let me in, Lennon,” I rasp against her lips. It’s not a demand; it’s a plea. And from the softening of her beautiful brown eyes, we both know it.
She tunnels her fingers through my hair, pushing the strands out of my face, and studies me. I fight the urge to duck my head, hide. But here is the one place we don’t have to keep secrets from each other.