“God, Gia. That’s it, kiss it.”
I flit my eyes up to look at him while I lick and kiss the tip of his cock. My name, my real name, from his lips, makes me even more eager. The sight of our hands practically clasped while my mouth hovers over him has to be so fucking good to see and feel, and I can tell how much he’s enjoying it. He moves his hand from the base of his thick cock to push my hair away from my face, gathering it at the nape of my neck and not letting go. I open my mouth and stick out my tongue. But I look up at him and wait for him to guide my head forward. He gets the idea real fast, thrusting his cock to the back of my throat.
“Look at you. Fucking my cock with that pretty mouth of yours. That’s it, Pixie.”
I relax my throat as he guides himself in and out. The way he takes control of my movements peaks my arousal. I can feel it dripping down my thighs. Moving my hands from the front of his thighs, I wrap them around to his round, tight ass cheeks. I pull him into my throat, but instead of pushing him out, I breathe through my nose and swallow. The moan he releases is one that I’ll never forget.
That’s right, flyboy, no gag reflex.A fabulous party trick that is right up at the top of my list of attributes, along with my immaculate memory and dashing personality.
I pull back to look up at him, and instead of protesting, he pulls me up. With his hand still wrapped in my hair, the other pulls me by the neck toward his mouth.
“You’ve ruined me. Nothing, no one, feels like you. I’ll do whatever you want, woman, be whatever you need,” he says, voice sounding strained. He brings me closer to kiss him, the taste of him mixed with the eagerness of his tongue drawing a moan from me. Or maybe it’s the praise I’m preening from. He swallows my moan, regardless, and playfully moves his tongue against mine. It’s one of those kisses that doesn’t make me want to move forward. I want to live in this moment with his beautiful mouth dancing effortlessly with mine.
He drags his thumb over the column of my throat, stroking it lightly as he holds me possessively. The way his hand is braced around my neck makes me feel enraptured by this man.
Before I can make sense of my weightlessness, we’re moving inside. He’s hoisted me up and over his shoulder. The move makes my stomach flip with excitement. I’m panting, waiting for him to manhandle the shit out of me. We dance between ownership. Taking turns to lead the other. It’s the most fun I’ve ever had.
My wet skin and hair drip onto his legs. We leave a trail of water behind us, and for some reason, the carelessness of it, the fact that we’re strutting around this home with nothing on but the promise of dirty, delicious sex, is making my toes curl.
Smack.
I feel his teeth take a bite of my fleshy ass. He licks the spot.
Smack.
He groans at the sound of it. I shudder as a chill runs through my body.
Bite. Smack.
“You’d better leave teeth marks, baby. If I can’t bring home a t-shirt or a shot glass from a souvenir shop, then you damn well better leave a few reminders on me, so I know this was all real.”
He tosses me onto the bed from over his shoulder, and I laugh as I bounce.
“This is real,” he says with a smirk. “If I have to spend the next handful of hours making sure you never forget what it feels like to have me between those legs, then I’ll do it.” He pulls me down by the ankle, his body hovering closer to mine now. Leaning in, he drops a kiss above my belly button.
I always enjoy sex, but I never savor it. Imprint it to memory. The memory banks that I like to pull from frequently. This moment will be there. In that place, tucked away for when I need it most.
He moves up my body, licks across my nipple, and then drags his teeth along the swell below it, making me arch my back. “More of that, please.”
“You like when I bite you, Pixie?”
I moan in response. And he drags his teeth back and forth across my hard nipple again. The same way I did to him by the pool. He licks, his tongue flicking and swirling, and just as I look down to watch, he bites, the twinge of pain leaving me squirming. I’m so wet, so ready for him, I’m aching.
Leaving kisses across my chest, he makes it to my lips. A penance, perhaps for biting.
“Too much?”
“No, baby.” I smile and nip at his lip. “You’re never too much.”
He smiles his big, beautiful smile, the one that makes that dimple pop.
Leaning up on one arm, he grabs his cock by the base, looking angry and eager for what I can gather is its new favorite place. Henry double-taps it against my clit and the slapping sound mixed with the moan that just jumped from my throat is a filthy soundtrack I wish I was recording. Rubbing the head against me, he coats it in the arousal he’s been working for.
He moves himself up and down from slit to clit repeatedly. I watch and writhe as he teases me. Never dipping in, just drawing nonsense, as if my cunt’s the paper and his cock, the quill.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
His warmth and teasing are edging me closer to something perfect. I want it to end and continue all at the same time.