32. Mia #2
I brought a leg up, hooking it over him, rubbing a heel against the back of his legs.
There were goosebumps all over my skin, and I sank my fingers into his hair.
He was still peppering kisses over my neck and jawline when he wedged his knee between my thighs, spreading them, and that too gave me a primal thrill.
“My whole life, especially by foster parents, I’ve been told to keep my legs together like a lady,” I whispered. “So sometimes it feels good to do the opposite. Like when we watched that show for class.”
I paused, moaning as his tongue lapped over my throat. “When I put my leg on yours like a piano and you pulled it closer to you. Just doing that—spreading my legs—it turned me on.”
“Me too,” Cody murmured against my heated skin.
He brought his knee up, his thigh pressing against my slit as my legs parted yet again. There was something so exciting and primal about this.
He sat up, hovering over me, and he grasped the hem of my chemise which had ridden up on my hips. He waited, watching my face until I nodded. Then I lifted off the bed so that he could slide the silky fabric up and over my head.
The cool air in the room caressed my bare skin, and I could’ve felt exposed, lying topless under him. But it wasn’t like that. Not with him. He had his hands on either side of my shoulders, and his gaze was on his face. Then he leaned forward, still pressing his hard, muscled thigh between my legs.
I ground against him—I couldn’t help it. He caught my wrists, pinning them to the pillow on either side. Then he leaned down and claimed my mouth.
My back arched, and I strained against the grip he had on my wrists—not because I wanted to get free but because I wanted to feel his strength. Somehow, this man took me from 0 to 60 and then possibly straight on through to 120. I ground myself against his thigh, wanting more, needing more.
It was just so hot to be pinned down and have him ravish my mouth. I moaned, arching my back again, and he took that as a cue to move to my throat, nibbling and licking, and then lower. I squirmed as he kissed me between my collarbones.
I kept squirming so much, I’m surprised I didn’t buck him off—and very glad I didn’t as his talented mouth moved lower.
“Oh god,” I moaned.
He caught a nipple between his teeth, and I stilled, afraid that if I writhed around too much it would hurt, but he knew what he was doing. His tongue flickered back and forth, making my nipple even harder than it already had been. So hard that it ached.
He squeezed lightly with his teeth before he let go—the equivalent of a pinch with his fingers. Then he buried his face in my cleavage, just breathing me in.
“You’re so beautiful, Mia. Your body… but also just you.”
Before I could respond to that, he was at the other nipple, and then words eluded me—at least until he let go of my wrists as he moved down my body again.
His nose grazed along my stomach, just above the line of my panties, and I put my hands on his head, fisting his hair, and trying not to push his head down where I needed it.
But he knew what I wanted. The way my hips were gyrating in little circles wasn’t exactly subtle.
His hands moved between my thighs, and then he was pushing my legs outward—splayed the way no lady should ever do, according to so many authority figures over the years—and I loved it.
I was open to him, except for the small panties I wore.
He dipped a finger under the waistband, then down the side. And then he stopped and grasped the front of the panties—and there was a sting—and they were gone.
Holy shit. Had he just ripped them off me?
The arousal pooled between my legs, and I couldn’t help squirming. Cody pinned me down again—but differently this time. He pushed my knees up toward my chest and put his hands on the back of my thighs. And then his head was between my legs.
He breathed in deeply, and there was just something so raw and caveman-like about it. And he blew warm air across my slit. Then I felt his tongue lapping at my folds, teasing.
My hips rolled, and I squirmed, trying to get him to put that warm, talented tongue where I needed it—but he chuckled against my heated skin.
“Please,” I moaned.
I hooked my arms under my knees, holding my legs up, and he took that as a cue to move his hands between my legs.
And those strong, skilled, calloused fingers that could make a piano sing made me shriek as he spread me open and blew warm air along my slit.
“Please,” I panted, not even sure what I was begging for. I just knew I wanted to feel more. “Please, Cody.”
He held me open, and the cool air from the room mixed with his breath, and the anticipation was just about to kill me.
My breathing was harsh, and the sounds tearing from my throat were whimpers of need.
And then I felt his tongue lap over my clit. I about jolted off the bed—it felt so good. But even better, his finger circled my entrance.
“Yes, please, please,” I babbled, almost incoherently.
My hips kept coming up off the bed, and his fingers dug hard into the back of my thigh, holding me down in a very possessive way that thrilled me even more.
With his other hand, he spread me again, his tongue zeroing in on my clit, circling it, sucking it in, teasing it—and then his finger pressed inside me, and I cried out.
It felt so good, but almost like sensory overload.
His finger circled inside me, stretching me, his tongue on my clit, teasing me. My legs spread and opened for him. I wanted him there.
I wanted him to touch me. I wanted him to drive me wild. And god, did he.
His tongue moved faster. A second finger slid inside me, and then he curled them, almost making me jolt right off the bed. I didn’t know how he knew exactly what to do to drive me wild, but he did.
The build-up was so intense that I could barely breathe.
My breathing was labored, my chest heaving as he worked me harder and harder. My legs started shaking. I was whimpering incoherently, and then it hit.
I cried out as I clamped down on his fingers—but he didn’t let up with his tongue.
I writhed around, practically riding his face as he kept going, not letting me off the hook, not letting me skip even one moment of pleasure.
I thrashed around, no longer worrying about what could be heard outside the room.
All I could do was feel—and shriek—and tremble.
He finally relented, withdrawing his fingers and giving my sensitive clit one last lick. Then he crawled up, resting his head on the pillow next to mine. He put his hand on my stomach, and every time my body jolted with an aftershock, he seemed pleased.
And perhaps a little smug. If so, he deserved to be. He’d made me come hard. I wanted to return the favor, but first I had to remember how to breathe and regain control of my body.
Except I kind of liked it better when he was controlling it.
“Was that okay?” The smugness was gone from his expression.
“That was amazing,” I said, still a little breathless. “You’re, um, very good at that.”
“That’s not what I meant,” he said. But his lips twitched upward. “But thanks.” Then his expression grew more serious. “I just meant… at the movie night, I loved having my hands on you, but… I don’t want you to think that’s the only thing I’m interested in.”
“I don’t think that.” I wanted to reach for him, to touch him, but his mood had shifted.
He shook his head, a little frustratedly. “I just… I can’t always put into words how I feel about you. So I guess I’ve been trying to show you through touch instead.”
I stared at him for a moment, wondering if he’d believe me if I said he was expressing himself very well, better than I’d ever heard him. And then I got an idea. “Maybe you can tell me.”
Cody shrugged helplessly. “I wish I could.”
“No, I mean, tell me your way. With sign language.”
“But you won’t be able to understand.”
“I’d still like to see you say it.” Now it was my turn to be unable to express myself well. I couldn’t quite explain why I needed this, but I just knew that I did. If sign language felt like his first language, then I wanted him to communicate with me that way, even if it was one sided.
Finally, he nodded, sitting up. I sat up too, pulling the sheet over my chest and leaning back against the headboard.
Cody was still for a moment, looking down.
Then he started. His hands moved in front of him, slowly at first, and then picking up speed. This was full American Sign Language, not just finger spelling, but full, fluid movement.
And it was utterly beautiful. Almost like a dance.
As he continued, his gaze lifted to mine—and held it. And his face… the expressions on it were easier to interpret than the fluid movements he was doing with his hands.
The earnest expression on his face made my heart overflow.
As for the signed words, I didn’t know what he was saying to me, but I was pretty sure I felt the same way, too.