11. Sienna #2
My first bite of the cheeseburger leaves me ravenous. Without looking up, I take another. When I pluck a napkin off the table and wipe at my mouth, Noah is watching me from his own seat, a smile on his face and his half of the burger held aloft.
“You mentioned wanting to try something with me,” I hedge. The words have been swirling in my head since he put them out there, but I’ve yet to decipher them. The potentials are limitless, so it’s better to just be up front and ask than to get ahead of myself and freak out.
Noah strikes me as the kind of person who knows precisely what he likes. I, on the other hand, haven’t had enough experience in the bedroom to have a clue where my interests lie.
It’s odd, really, how comfortable I am with this near stranger. Odder still because he doesn’t feel like one. There isn’t much that he could toss my way that would make me hesitate.
He takes another bite of his burger, watching me thoughtfully.
The silence is suddenly unnerving, and now, the scenarios I was trying to avoid freaking out about run through my head.
Though in a matter of seconds, I realize I don’t even know enough about sex to come up with more than one or two crazy ideas.
I’m picking at my salad, holding back from begging him to put me out of my misery and tell me, when he finishes the last bite of his burger, wipes his mouth with a napkin, and sets his hands flat on the table.
“I don’t fuck just anyone.”
The matter-of-fact way the crass word comes out of his deliciously polite lips ignites heat in my core once more. I clench my thighs and press my lips together so I don’t whimper while I wait for him to continue.
“I’ve discovered several things that interest me. I’ve read about them…” He blows out a breath, suddenly looking a little nervous. “Because I like to read.” He dips his head, his cheeks going rosy at the admission.
My heart warms at his tone, at the shyness there. How is it possible for him to be so brazen one second and endearing the next?
He shrugs. “But I’ve never had the opportunity to try most of them, since I’ve never been in a relationship.”
The confession, said with such a straight face, and his openness, urges me to be honest as well. “Me neither.”
Noah’s eyes flash with what I think is delight.
“I like to please a woman. It’s my—“ He wets his lips and angles a fraction closer. “It pleases me to please a woman. Simply playing with you could make me come.”
My breath escapes me in a quiet gasp. “Huh?”
“I don’t need to fuck. Because I get off on touching you.
On watching you come. That’s normally enough.
I rarely have sex because, in the past, when I’ve been with women, it’s felt like they’re performing for me.
Like they’ve been trained to please men rather than seek their own pleasure.
And that doesn’t do it for me.” He closes his eyes, a pained expression flitting across his face, though it’s gone quickly. “I don’t want to do that with you.”
My stomach sinks, and there’s no hiding the devastation in my tone when I ask, “You don’t want to fuck me?” This is not where I thought this was going.
Noah’s lips curl up, as if he’s pleased by how bothered I am. “Oh, I want to fuck you. And I will fuck you.” He beckons me with a crook of one finger. “Come sit on my lap, I want to touch you while you eat.”
That heat in my belly turns to liquid, slicking my thighs as I slide my chair back.
Who knew talking so plainly about sex could be so hot?
This man’s openness and honesty may be the sexiest thing about him and that’s saying something.
He flat out told me that he wants to experience something with me he never has with another woman.
The thought consumes me, blooms inside me, encourages me to be brazen myself. Maybe that makes me a pick me girl but in this moment I don’t give a fuck. I’ll gladly wear the title of a hopeless romantic.
Noah pushes his plate back, then drags mine across the table until it’s in front of him. Then he spreads his thighs and sets his hands on them, waiting.
Eyes locked on his, I stand and shuffle into the slot he’s created for me between his knees.
“Sit,” he says, guiding me to sit sideways on his lap with a shoulder pressed against his chest. “Now eat.”
I peer up at him, only to find him surveying the ocean. Confusion swirls in my belly, tempering the arousal there. I thought he was going to touch me. I wait a beat, and when he still doesn’t look at me, I pick up a fry.
As I bring it to my mouth, he slides a hand beneath my robe and cups one of my breasts, though he’s still intent on watching the waves roll in. He dusts a finger across my nipple, then circles back, lightly teasing me, and the zap of electricity that shoots straight to my core makes me hiss.
“I want to make you come over and over, Sienna. Until you’re begging me to stop.
But I need you to tell me right now that even when you beg, you understand that I won’t stop.
I want to spend the next forty eight hours using your body, pleasuring you in every way, even when it’s too much for your senses.
Telling me to stop will only spur me on, so pick another word, and only use it if you truly don’t want me to continue. ”
As he speaks, he doesn’t stop playing with my nipples.
It takes concerted effort to understand the rules he’s laying out with the way my core tightens and my pussy begs for more, begs to be filled and fucked.
Arousal drips from me, coating my thighs and soaking through my robe as I work hard to decipher his words.
“Will you fuck me to please me?” I need to know.
If he wants me to agree to be the equivalent of his sex toy, then I need to know that what he has in mind will involve actual sex.
Like penetration. My body is a slut for him right now and I’d agree to just about anything, but only if it means I get his dick.
I stare up at him, desperate for him to look at me. But he keeps his attention fixed on the water. He pinches my nipple, and my hips roll in response, searching for relief.
“Yes, Sienna. I’m going to stick my cock in whatever hole will make you squirt for me. Then I’ll drink your cum. If you need my cock to make that happen, then I’ll give it to you.”
My mind spins, his dirty words leaving me dizzy. “Holy shit.”
His hand drifts to my other breast and he starts his ministrations over, and in seconds, I swear I’m on the brink of release. It’s impossible, yet here I am, my limbs tingling and need coiling tight in my belly.
As if he knows better, as if he knows he can work my body over in a way that’ll send me hurtling into the abyss without touching my pussy, he finally zeroes in on me.
By the way his pupils are blown out, one would think I was on my knees for him.
That I was the one pleasuring him, touching him.
He pinches my nipple and rolls it between his thumb and forefinger.
“Say yes, Sienna. Tell me I can have free rein over your body. Give me permission to make you come over and over. Please, tell me I can stick my cock in you whenever I want, wherever we are so I can watch your skin take on that gorgeous golden flushed hue. I want you soaked for me. Coated in sweat and panting.”
“Yes,” I cry out. The single word isn’t meant to be an answer to his question. It passes my lips with force as my body crests a wave of need. He’s done it. He’s sent me over the edge with nothing more than nipple play.
He curls around me, pushing my robe aside with a rough sideways thrust of his chin. Then he laps at one breast and bites down on the nipple while he continues teasing the other.
Desire washes over me, flooding me, overtaking me, dripping down my legs. “Holy shit, don’t stop,” I babble. “Please, please.”
Vision spotty, I thrash against him. I need to be fucked. I need to be filled.
But he holds me in place, refusing to give me what I’m literally begging for, and instead taking what he wants.
He sucks on my tits, drawing out my orgasm.
As he takes and takes and takes some more, my mind swirls and understanding finally dawns.
This is what he wants. He wants the control, and he wants to give me this insane pleasure.
As my trembling limbs settle and my orgasm ebbs, he drags his mouth up my chest, up my neck, and seals his lips over mine.
Gasping for air, still desperate for more, to be filled with him, I drop my head against his chest. He presses kisses to my forehead, adjusts the robe so I’m covered again and picks up one of the glasses of water from the table. He brings the straw to my mouth and waits for me to open.
I obey easily, catching on to how much he likes to take care of me. Once I’ve taken a few sips, he sets the glass down. Then he snakes a hand beneath my robe and settles his warm palm against the burning skin of my thigh.
My mind is a jumbled mess. Every second of what he just did was pure bliss, yet he still hasn’t even touched my pussy. How is that possible? He’s made me come three times now and I’ve yet to even see the man’s cock. It’s incredible. It’s?—
“Butterfly,” I whisper.
“Hm?” The sound rumbles through his chest.
“My word. If I say butterfly, you stop.”
The only indication that he’s heard me is a slight inhale of breath, followed by a thick swallow.
Then he’s back to staring out at the ocean.
He remains like that, silent, contemplative, for so long that I think I must have imagined the way he just worked me over.
Just as I’m getting restless, his fingers move.
A tiny adjustment. I freeze, holding my breath, worrying I imagined it.
But then it happens again. This time, his fingers twitch a little more obviously, and then he slides his palm up my thigh and between my legs.
The grin that spreads across his face is wicked. “You’re soaked.”
A surprised laugh rips through me. “I’m pretty sure I need to shower. My thighs are coated.”
“In your cum,” he rumbles, looking at me with an intensity that sets my skin on fire. “I’m going to bring you inside and lick up every single drop.” Then his finger is prodding at my entrance, the slickness there allowing it to slip in without resistance.
I moan, my head tipped back against his bicep.
He thrusts in and out, slowly, deliberately, as if he has a plan and refuses to deviate from it, studying me, brow furrowed, like he’s memorizing every detail, as if each freckle, each line, is knowledge he needs for a test he intends to ace.
I’m catching on. This focus, this determination, means I’m going to come again. So I will my body to relax and focus on the sensations.
“I’m going to settle you on the bed.” He presses his thumb to my clit without stopping his ministrations.
“And I’m going to tell you to open your knees for me.
” He licks his lips, heat flaring in his irises.
“Then I’m gonna tell you to take those dainty fingers of yours and spread your cunt wide so I can lean over and get my fill.
” A shaky breath escapes him, but when he speaks again, his tone is just as stern.
“My glasses have to come off when we fuck but I want to see every inch of what’s mine before I do that.
” He drags his gaze down my body, to my breasts, which are fully exposed to the midday sun now that my robe has fallen open, down to where he’s working me over.
Like this, I’m exposed. It sends a thrill through me, even though there’s not a soul in sight.
If the control he craves is anything to go by, he wouldn’t let anyone see me like this, but the idea that a person could walk up on us at any time doesn’t exactly bother me.
Infact, the thought makes me gush around his fingers.
He lets out a low, rough moan of his own. “Then once I’ve gotten my fill, once I’ve cataloged every inch of you, I’ll put my glasses on the bedside table and hand you a condom. While you rip it open, I’ll take out my cock for you.”
I imagine it. Every second. The way he’d carefully fold up his glasses and gently set them down.
That simple move shouldn’t be such a turn on.
Maybe it’s the dichotomy of it all. The dirty words, the demands paired with the exquisite thought and care in his every movement, especially when it comes to my pleasure.
The desperate need to finally see his cock helps. The vision I’ve already conjured of rolling the condom over his shaft, pulling a desperate groan from him in the process.
“Help me, Sienna, spread that cunt wide open for me just like you will in there, let me see everything.”
I do as I’m told without hesitation. I’m wanton, aching for his touch, aching for more of him. My fingers brush over his knuckles, and when I pull myself wide open for him, he leans forward and sighs.
“Look at how beautiful you are. How your blood has all rushed to this spot, making you so pink and lovely for me.” He blows air against my exposed pussy and I shutter violently in his arms. “That’s my girl,” he rasps. “Come for me so I can take you inside and drink from you.”
His words are all it takes to send me over the edge. I come hard, liquid gushing from me. Unashamed, I give in, moaning loudly. He’s transfixed, enraptured, his focus completely set, like he can’t get enough, watching me pulse around his fingers.
He chuckles and it’s pure sex. “You just squirted all over my glasses. Fuck,” he hisses, like he’s lost control. Like he’s so taken aback that he’s lost the script for a moment.
With a final curl of his finger, he slips out of me and hauls me into the villa, like he can’t move quick enough.
The world around me is a blur. It only comes back into focus when I’m on my back, watching the ceiling fan rotate lazily above, and he’s suctioning his lips over my clit and drinking my orgasm from my body.
He works me through the last of this orgasm, and even as it abates, he doesn’t stop.
He licks and sucks and finger fucks me straight into another.
And as I enter a state of ecstasy I never could have imagined, I can only hope he does every single thing he’s promised.