She punched his upper arm and came away with a sore fist. Peter was hard everywhere. “If I scream it’s only because you do things to me.”
His hands were toying with her breasts, and his voice was low and arousing when he asked, “What kind of things?”
“Good things,” she said on a moan. “Ooh, keep doing that. Or you could…never mind.”
His mouth had found her nipple, and she clasped his head with both hands, loving the feel of his soft buzz cut under her palms. “I could what?”
“You could go down on me.” She clamped her lips, embarrassed at asking for something so intimate.
“Go down?” He gave a puzzled look toward the foot of the bed.
Oh God, she was going to have to explain it, wasn’t she? “Um, it’s when a guy kisses a girl. Down there.” She tilted her head slightly to point the way. “You know, kind of like a blow job, but for a girl.” Her cheeks could light the bed on fire, they were that hot.
A slow male grin spread across his face. “Okay.” He ducked under the covers, and she remained frozen, slightly shocked at how quickly he’d embraced the idea. Most guys in high school had whispered in locker rooms stupid things like chicken smells and hair in teeth. Peter seemed to have none of those hang-ups.
“I can’t do this if you don’t spread your legs.” His voice was muffled under the covers, and it took her a moment for his request to penetrate. She pushed the covers off his back and planted her feet widely on the narrow mattress, knees bent.
“Do you really want to…?”
In answer, his mouth found its way between her legs, and he took his first taste of her. It was her first time having a man do this to her, and she wasn’t sure she liked it. It was a bit awkward.
His head popped up and their gazes met. “Relax,” he said with a small smile.
She reached for him. “Come kiss me.”
“I am.” And his head disappeared between her thighs again. She laughed when the tip of his tongue touched a particularly sensitive spot. Now she saw the appeal of a man going down on her.
Ripples of pleasure radiated out from her core through her spine and down her extremities. A moan escaped her before she could stop it, and Peter froze a moment, looking up to smile. “Quiet. This is not how I want to meet your parents. Does your moan mean I’m doing this right?”
She giggled, bubbling over with pleasure that her serious, rather scary lover had a dry sense of humor. “Come here, you.” She pulled at him by his underarms, and this time he allowed her to pull him up for more kissing. They made out slowly, then with more urgency, his erection pushing against her lower belly the whole time. He started to prod at her opening, but she resisted, trying to roll him onto his back. He was too strong for her to move anywhere without his consent.
“I want to be on top,” she whispered. That sparked his interest, and he quickly rolled them until his back was to the mattress, and she was balanced on his torso. Her breasts squeezed against his chest, and she angled her hips until his erection prodded at her damp opening. She rose up, then lowered down slowly. This time, it was him moaning, and she pressed her lips against his to catch the noise. “You definitely don’t want to meet my parents like this.”
He didn’t answer and instead experimented with thrusting up into her slowly then faster. “It’s even better than before,” he whispered.
They stared into each other’s eyes, not talking, barely breathing. Both their hands were clasped alongside his head, and the only movement was her hips on his. The only sound was the gentleshushingof the cotton sheets under their sweaty bodies.
“Peter,” she finally gasped out, and squeezed her eyes shut as an orgasm wound its way from her brain down to the point where his penis was buried deep inside. She could become a sex addict if they kept this up. Sex for her had always been nice enough, but it had never made her want to stay naked in bed with her man and not leave the room ever.
He was still thrusting upward, and she tried to relax her inner muscles around him, because the intensity of the sensation was quickly becoming overwhelming. “I can’t…” she said with a moan.
“Should I stop?” he asked, slowing his movements.
She cracked open one eye. “But you haven’t come yet, have you?”
The muscle was tight around his jaw as he shook his head.
“I’m okay. Keep going.”
“You sure?”
“Positive.” She clenched her thighs and squeezed her muscles around him, staring down at his face as he screwed her. Her body was tender and felt like every nerve ending was being teased, but she didn’t want to stop. Peter was like another person when he was making love to her. He had all these facets to his personality that she didn’t know how to interpret.
This afternoon he’d been like a machine, beating the crap out of the three guys. Now, as he held her tightly, he was all tenderness and hooded eyelids. She liked that he accepted her stares without getting bigheaded about it. He fascinated her on every level. And she loved that he seemed equally fascinated by her.
He’d scared her today with his violence that had unleashed as fast as a cheetah dashed after prey, but with her, he’d been all gentleness.
Her muscles tightened around him, and he groaned, suddenly opening his eyes. His smile filled her heart with a joy so big it threatened to burst out of her. If it wasn’t the middle of the night, and she didn’t have a man literally inside her, she’d grab her guitar and express her joy in music. As she watched Peter find his climax with a suppressed groan, she realized she wanted to play for him. Needed to play for him. She wanted him to see her sing.