Chapter 28
Aida
The moment his mouth connects with my flesh, I’m done for. Gone. I arch right into that strong hand. The one that’s splayed across my stomach, holding me down protectively.
Like he knew I’d be at risk of falling off the fucking table and he preempted me.
As his tongue hits my pussy, he makes this earthy kind of groan that’s just so male. My erudite, well-bred husband was many things, but he wasn’t the animal I would’ve liked. Not with me, anyway.
But Cal sounds unleashed. And I fucking love it.
It’s a selfish sound, a carnal one, like right now he’s looking after his own needs as much as mine, and it gets me even hotter.
God knows, this guy is good at working women up.
And when he touched me at that club it was incredible.
But being alone with him? Being spread out for him, blindfolded and naked and wanton and willing for him to do absolutely anything he wants right now?
It’s the hottest experience of my life. This guy is a prophet, it seems, because he was right.
Massaging me, having him touch me and stroke me and loosen me up like this, was the most sensual, pleasurable experience I could have asked for.
The sensation of his huge hands roaming over my skin was almost worshipful.
It seems like he enjoyed it too—I hope he did—but right now I’m so far gone I don’t give a fuck.
‘Mmm,’ he says, voice muffled, the sound vibrating against my flesh. ‘Fuck. God, that’s good.’
I wish I could see him. Wish I could watch as that dark head of hair dips between my legs and samples me. Wish I could see his fingers white-knuckling my thighs. His tongue sweeping through my centre.
But I can’t, and whatever I’m missing out on in terms of otherworldly visuals, I’m making up for in sensation, my lack of sight ratcheting up the intensity of his touch.
And then he really begins to eat me.
He licks me from my entrance to my clit one more time before my legs are forced even further apart, like he would climb inside my body if he could.
‘Hold it like that,’ he orders, before releasing one leg.
He’s got the other one pried open against the forearm of the hand he’s holding me down with.
A second later, two of his thick fingers are shoving back in inside my pussy so hard that my body doesn’t know whether to brace or celebrate.
All I know is I feel full and invaded and it’s fucking amazing.
Then his tongue is back on me, but this time it’s right where I need it.
Right on my clit.
I don’t even try to hold back, because the pleasure rolling through me in huge waves is so strong, so completely right, that it’s all I can do to go with it.
His mouth on my pussy is life-altering. He’s sucking my clit, then licking it, those lips of his dragging over the surrounding flesh as he goes, like he wants to cover every inch of my most intimate areas.
His fingers stretch me open. They twist. They crook.
He adds another as the hand on my stomach presses down even harder, and my entire pelvic region fills with gorgeous, molten heat.
He’s still working my clit with that lascivious mouth and its filthy licks.
This might be the most sexually satisfying moment of my life.
I feel blindly for his head and grab at a handful of his thick hair. I don’t need to tug him closer to where I need him because this guy is everywhere. He’s devouring my pussy like a starving man, his sounds of satisfaction now almost as primal, as hungry as the moans I’m making.
‘God,’ I grit out, but it’s more of a pant than a blasphemy, because I’m so close I can barely get myself to sound human.
I’m bucking against his hand, fucking his fingers, grinding against his tongue like the most shameless, desperate whore who’s ever lived, and I love it.
I fucking love it. It seems I’ve embraced Cal’s confidence, his enthusiasm, and his general dirtiness, which I guess was the idea.
But this is better than I could ever, ever have conceived of. This is who I am. This is what I was put on this earth to do. It’s primordial. Elemental. It’s—
I explode.
Over and over, heat racing through my nervous system like a fire through gasoline, relentless and all-consuming, so intense that it obliterates my consciousness and sends me hurtling into transcendence.
I lie there, writhing blindly and abandoning myself to this unearthly pleasure as Cal continues to eat, lick, suck, finger-fuck, and groan his way through my orgasm.
It subsides gently, almost as if it’s conscious of not leaving me too bereft. Too hollowed out. It ebbs away like the gauziest, the frothiest, of waves on the shore, leaving not a void in its wake but a beautiful, shimmering completeness.
Cal is still touching me. His hand strokes over my stomach. He’s scattering kisses over my thighs. I tug off my sleep mask and raise myself up onto my elbows with difficulty, and he looks up.
Jesus. He looks as just-fucked as I do. Hair mussed. Dark eyes glassy. Even in the dim light, his mouth looks swollen, wet, like his assault on my pussy was as wonderfully rough on him as it was on me.
He relinquishes the pressure on my stomach, his hand sliding around my waist to help me sit up. I brace myself with a hand behind me, but before I can make some inelegant attempt at articulating my appreciation, he’s wrapping his other hand around my neck and sealing his mouth to mine.
He tastes like me. It’s jarring and arousing.
He has me in his arms now, even as I sit up on the bed.
His kisses are hard and fevered and demanding, and I meet them with the blissed-out sensuality of a woman whose orgasm has just torn her apart, my hands stroking languorously up his mostly bare arms and over the taut musculature of his back as his fingers weave through my hair.
I’m suspended, my earlier nerves subsumed and my consciousness shot through with halcyon details: the press of his pecs against my breasts and the taut probing of his tongue and the smoothness of the skin at the nape of his neck.
Eventually, he breaks our kiss and presses his forehead to mine.
‘How do you feel after that?' he asks softly.
‘More amazing than I’ve felt in a very long time,’ I confess. ‘I don’t know how to describe it.’
‘Good,’ he murmurs, pulling away. ‘Jesus, look at these. They’re even more perfect like this.’
These are my breasts, and a flicker of self-consciousness hits me as I remember that Cal’s fully dressed and I’m sitting here, stark naked.
But the way he’s backing away so he can look at them properly tamps that unease down, and I straighten up so I’m sitting upright on the bed, legs dangling over the edge in front of him.
‘I don’t think they’re perfect,’ I demur, but he tuts.
‘Nope. None of that bullshit with me, sweetheart. Cup them for me. And open your legs while you’re at it.’
It’s super dim in here, but still. It’s not like I’m used to a man commanding me like I’m here for his pleasure. Like this sight of my forty-six-year-old body, with its crepey tummy and C-section scar and mom-thighs could actually bring him pleasure.
But it seems to.
He’s telling me with his words, but also with his eyes. With the teeth that tug on his full bottom lip as I cup my breasts like he asks and basically put them on a platter for him. And most definitely with the unmistakable bulge in his trousers. The one he’s—
Oh.
My.
God.
He’s palming his cock, rubbing at it absentmindedly, like he doesn’t even know he’s doing it.
‘Look at you,’ he says, and even his voice is absentminded, like he’s talking to himself and not to me. ‘Look how flushed and beautiful you look after you come. That pussy is just… and those fucking tits. Jesus.’
‘Hey,’ I tell him, reaching out for him. ‘Come here.’
He takes a step towards me like he’s sleepwalking, his eyes still trained on my body, his hand still palming that erection.
I hook my arm around his neck and cover his hand with mine. ‘Let me… I want to take care of you.’
That seems to jerk him out of whatever aroused stupor he’s in. ‘Nope. Not today. This was about you.’
‘Yeah. And you did a great job on that,’ I tell him. ‘And now I want to make you come.’
‘Aida.’ It sounds like he’s pleading with himself, with his self-control, more than with me. ‘Another time. You don’t need to.’
‘Cal. This isn’t about reciprocation, or manners. This is about me wanting to get my hands on that gorgeous dick of yours.’ I smooth my fingers over the hand that’s standing between me and said dick.
He makes a pained sound. ‘How do you know it’s gorgeous?’
‘Are you seriously going to tell me it isn’t?’ I bend my head and drag my lips over his beard, gratified at the shiver I feel in response.
‘Well, obviously not.’
‘I need it, Cal.’ I shimmy to one side and push off the bed, dropping straight to my oiled-up knees beside him. I can tell he’s trying to be noble. Professional, even. And it breaks my heart. Hopefully, actions will speak louder than words.
He turns so his hand-covered cock is level with my mouth and gazes down at me, conflict written all over his face.
‘Aida,’ he says through clenched teeth. ‘I’m just—it’s better if I take care of this myself.’
‘I want your dick in my mouth,’ I tell him in my most imperious newsreader voice. ‘I’m not messing around here. Seriously, just fuck my mouth. Show me you want me.’
It’s always struck me that giving someone a blowjob and having them fuck your mouth are two eminently different things, the latter involving head-grabbing and thrusting, and while my experience of this more aggressive form of fellatio is limited to dark romance books with morally grey, oversexed antiheroes, I know I need it from Cal.
Because it’s been a long time since a man has looked at me like my very presence is a threat to the layers of self-control that house his inner beast, and it’s even longer since I’ve met a man so beautiful. So unashamedly sexual. And so generous with his skills.
In any case, it seems like my slutty little plea works, because he chokes out a strangled fuck and lets his hand drop, defeated, to his side.
‘You sure?’ he whispers hoarsely.
‘I’m certain,’ I whisper back, looking up at him and placing my palms flat on his thighs.
His quads contract as soon as I make contact.
His eyes are dark, impenetrable, their thick lashes casting a fan of shadows over each cheek as he looks down at me on my knees before him.
His hand cups my jaw before sliding around to entangle its fingers in my hair.
‘Okay then,’ he manages. ‘Take it out, sweetheart.’