She gasped and buried her fingers in his hair, loving the more forceful tugs on her nipple. In their previous encounters, he had teased and tormented with nibbles and barely there little suctioning kisses. This was more like it. Deciding to go for it, to be brave and take matters into her own hands, she grabbed one of his large, busy hands and dragged it up over her breast and then her chest.
He stopped playing with her breasts and lifted his head to watch her. She smiled, brought his hand up, and sucked the tip of each finger into her mouth, loving the way his beautiful eyes darkened with each bit of suctioning. Then she did it, the bit she dreaded the most. The bit that always seemed to turn guys all the way on. She brought that big, strong hand to her throat and left it there. He frowned slightly, wrapping his palm over her slender throat but not doing more than that.
“It’s okay,” she promised him. Sounding braver and steadier than she felt. “You can squeeze.”
She hated this part, hated how suffocating it was, how terrifying it felt to have her air cut off. Hated how much they seemed to love the discomfort it caused her. Spencer did nothing, his palm hot against her skin. He was staring intently down at her.
“Do it,” she urged, hating the tension, dreading the inevitability.
“Do you really want me to?” he finally asked, sounding almost bored. His thumb was idly stroking her wildly pulsing carotid artery, and she swallowed. His question baffled her, and she had no idea what the right answer was.
After a moment’s thought, she nodded, and his eyes narrowed before he smiled. The parting of his lips was slow and beautiful. He lowered his head and touched those lips to hers. The kiss was soft and delicate, his tongue coming out to trace the seam of her mouth. But when she parted her lips to allow him access, he retreated, lifting his head to look at her again. His hand was still at her throat, but there was no pressure yet, just that soft up-and-down sweep of his thumb. This was so much worse than usual. To follow up this tenderness with pain and humiliation would be unbearable.
“Just do it,” she urged tightly, and he looked at her for a moment longer before his lips tilted at the corner and he shook his head.
“I don’t think so.”
What?
He stroked his hand away from her throat down the front of her body, sweeping between the shallow valley of her breasts before bringing it to the cleft of her pussy.
“There are so many other, more satisfying, things I could be doing with this hand.” His voice was a rumble, and she groaned when his index finger found the swollen bundle of nerves at her center and proceeded to strum it delicately. She writhed in pleasure, completely overwhelmed.
“That’s it, darling,” he crooned. “Isn’t this much better?”
He went back to her nipples, and the brief awkwardness of the moment was swept away in a tide of overwhelming lust. She arched her back, pushing her chest closer to his mouth, while she lifted her hips to encourage that softly stroking finger. Wanting him to put more effort into it. He lifted his head to grin at her, and then he was on the move again and Daff smiled as she watched his head travel down.
“Oh yes,” she sighed when his lips closed over her clit, replacing his finger. Yes, this was definitely her new favorite thing. “Feel free to just set up camp down there,” she invited him, and he chuckled. That huff of breath felt amazing on the straining, swollen knot that was the very center of her universe right now, and she shivered deliciously. Without lifting his busy mouth, he reached for one of her hands and pushed it toward her chest.
“Play with your nipples,” he growled before going back to work.
Oh, with pleasure. She did as she was told, stroking, thumbing, and tugging at her hard nipples with both hands. He used his thumbs to part her pouting flesh, giving him unimpeded access to every sensitive bit of real estate down there, and he took full advantage, using his tongue to lave its way up the groove on one side of her clit and down the other. It traveled even farther down until she—shockingly—felt him probing for entry.
“Ohhhh my God!” she heard herself mewling. How long was his tongue? And how endlessly talented. It speared in and out of her clutching channel while his thumb took up the slack at her swollen clitoris. She felt so naïve in thinking—after the other night—that she now knew everything there was to know about cunnilingus, because she clearly knew absolutely nothing.
This was . . . it was . . . transcendent.