He bites my thigh. But this time, I knew it was coming, and the pain from it sets a fuse, lighting up whatever hadn’t already turned on in my body. My senses are primed, and I feel the warmth of his skin through his shirt as I wrap my hands around his forearms. I’m surrounded by the delicious smell of him, leather and pine; it always seems so masculine, but the scent ultimately makes me feel safe. And I never feel safe with anyone I’m with in this way. I never let go and allow myself to really free-fall into the moment, but in this one, I do. Without question.
The feel of his scruff against my thighs. His eyes on my very wet undies. I’m thankful this dress fits the way it does, because any tighter and I would have opted for Spanx. And while they do wonders, they’re not the sexiest undergarment to rip off in a fit of desire. My Target-brand sheer black thongs aren’t La Perla, by any stretch, but they still look hot as hell, albeit probably ruined after this.
He jerks my hips up even closer to his lips and I’m entranced as I watch as his face disappears from sight. I feel him nudge my clit ever so lightly. Such an overachiever. The fact that on his first contact he finds my clit with barely any light, and while it’s still fully covered, is a feat that deserves a standing ovation. I’ve had my fair share of men searching for it with a phone light and still missed. He exhales against my soaked panties, and it makes me crave friction. I want more. Ineedmore.
“Henry. Oh God,” I whimper. “Do that again.”
Even saying his name turns me on. Friction or not, it’s not going to take much to send an orgasm toppling through my body. Too much anticipation. Too many years of teasing, and far too many encounters that I’ve had to take care of on my own.
He bites me again, and this time it sparks a moan out of me. Before I can even ask, he’s pushing my panties to the side and is moving just the tip of his tongue up and down, while flicking my clit at the finish of each drag. It’s still a tease, and just as I’m ready to beg, he flattens his tongue and drags it devastatingly slow. Lapping up the arousal that greeted him at the beginning of his dirty promises. Oh fuck, I remember that tongue. I remember the pace. I want to send it a fruit basket and thank you note for still being a star performer. Well. Fucking. Done.
He pulls back to watch my face. If I had to guess, I probably look surprised. Needy for more. My mouth is slack and moaning at the loss of his warm tongue and cool breath. Two fingers push into where his tongue just fucked me, and I groan in response.
“Dammit, G. You’re going to make me come just watching you get finger fucked, aren’t you?” he says with a low gravel to his voice. The tone of it is erotic as all hell, while the accusation has me preening. His fingers pump in and out of me to the tempo of a waltz. Slow and steady, but building to something beautiful. Faster, and with purpose.
“Don’t you dare come yet, Hanky. I still need to see how much of that cock will fit down my throat,” I say, finishing on another moan. It makes him laugh. Hey there, dimple. Instead of a verbal response, however, he curls the two fingers that have now started to pick up the pace, hitting me inmyspot. And I’m silent. I open my mouth to say his name or speak to any of the Gods willing to listen to this heaven on earth, but I can’t. This man’s fingers have managed to do the impossible and stifle my mind and my ability to speak. I can only feel. Bask in the warmth that’s traveling across every limb. The low buzzing that settles in my gut, getting ready for something far greater.
His mouth descends back to where it belongs. He licks my clit, then kisses the hood of my pussy, and I think I die a little. A small tremor rolls along my abs. A quiver. The man makes out with my fucking clit and then drives three massive fingers into me with orchestrated perfection. My orgasm doesn’t crest into something poetic. No, it thrashes into my body and explodes from my lips. Both sets. The silence has ceased. And instead, I yell and moan while my body pulses around his fingers. My thighs shake and clench around his neck, beyond my control.
“Henry. Please,” I moan.
“That’s it, Pixie. Do as you’re told and come all over my fingers. Show me how good that feels,” he tells me, his mouth still against my pussy, still moving his fingers in and out slowly. “So beautiful. My name coming out of your mouth as you drip down my hand. That’s it.”
The movement mixed with his words makes my thighs shake again. Or maybe they never stopped. He buries his mouth into my lap, his tongue moving right above where his fingers are buried, and before I can say anything or even shift my weight, he bites my clit, and it causes a second wave to barrel through my entire body. I grip his hair with one hand and bite my other fist to stifle the scream tearing from my throat.
I don’t know how I’m ever coming back from that.
“You taste so fucking good.” He licks me again, and I’m so sensitive now I jump and giggle. All the imagination and vibrators in the world would never come close to replicating that.
As soon as my mind emerges from the fog of that orgasm, I look down to find Henry staring up at me with a smirk and eyes filled with complete lust. Perhaps even awe. He just made me scream and possibly see what an alternate reality could look like. My orgasm is all over his scruff and the filthy part of me hopes that he just leaves it. His reward for a job well done. I want to tell him that I’ve never come so hard in my life, but the thought is interrupted.
A knock on the door pulls our attention away from one another.
“Sir, just letting you know it’s 11:55,” the male voice from the other side says.
I sit up in a rush. All of a sudden sobered. “Fuck. We need to get down there. We can’t miss the countdown. Everyone will notice we’re not there. Especially your sister. FUCK!”
I’ve already hopped down from the vanity, now balancing on one foot to fully remove my thong. It’s soaked and stretched out. She had a good run.
I’m too distracted to hear if Henry has anything to say in response. Instead, I search the room for my shoe. “Where the hell is my other shoe?!”
“Right here,” he says as it dangles from his finger. I snatch it away and pull it on. “You stay here, I’ll go first.” But instead of listening to me and staying put, he follows directly behind me as I start to rush down the stairs.
“What are you doing?” I look back at him.
“I’m coming with you. If you want to countdown to midnight, then you’re going to need to kiss someone to ring in the New Year.”
I whip my head around to look back at him.Is he serious? That can’t happen. Not in front of everyone, and he knows it.
“No. Nope. That’s not happening. We aren’t parading our hook-up around on your sister’s night. No way.”
We’re still walking through the main room and past the kitchen before I stop to look at him again. Three minutes to go before balloons and confetti assault everyone on the other side of this space.
He says nothing. Not acknowledging what I’ve said, he pushes past me.
But before I can speak up once more, he stops his movement. His hands pause from opening the doors, and he turns to me. “There is no version of this world where you’re so much as looking at another man tonight, never mind kissing someone other than me at midnight.” He runs his hands through his hair and huffs in frustration.God, I love pissing this man off.“And I’m not kissing anyone else. Not when I can still taste you on my tongue.”
Heat works its way across my cheeks. I don’t want to kiss anyone else either. But I also haven’t had any time to figure out what just happened. It may have felt life-changing, but the truth is that nothing has changed. I’m still me, and anything more with him is still off-limits.