Chapter 12 Lindsey #2
But this Lindsey? The one who’s on the verge of coming, right now, just from the heat of Brooks’s gaze .
. . is willing to experiment. I drop to my knees and wrap my hand over his on his cock, then tug his pants down enough to give me the full view of him.
His hand moves to the back of my head as my mouth inches toward his tip, and when I taste the precum on the crest of his dick, his head falls back with a breathy groan.
His fingers flex as his palm stretches along my skull, and he gently guides my head into him so his cock fills my mouth and nearly touches the back of my throat.
I will myself not to gag, instead pulling back as my lips close tightly around his shaft.
Brooks shudders under my power, and as I gaze up at him through my lashes, he looks drunk from what I’m doing to him.
I take him in my mouth again, slowly picking up my rhythm until his breathing becomes heavy and his cock flexes against my lips.
He pulls out and lifts my chin, cupping it in his palm and forcing me to stare up into his eyes.
I feel safe with him. But what’s more is I feel alive.
I feel like a young, hungry woman again.
“My turn,” he says, urging me to stand.
He quickly works the other strap of my bra down my arm, then unhooks the clasp between my breasts so the garment drops to the floor between us.
He traces the curves of my breasts with the back of his hand, letting his knuckles graze over the aching peaks before he pulls one of them into a vice between his thumb and index finger.
The sweet pressure sends a rush of morphine-like tingles through my core and between my legs.
Brooks seems fully aware of what he’s doing to me as he cups my pussy the very next second, his fingers gliding against the wet cotton strip between my legs.
“So fucking wet,” he says, his voice husky and almost a growl.
I can tell my pussy is swollen with need, and each pass of his finger over my sensitive skin threatens to make me come undone. But it’s too soon. It’s not enough. I want all of him. I want him inside me, filling me.
I wrap my hand around his cock, still wet from my saliva, and stroke him a few times before lowering myself onto the bed. I scoot back and part my legs, bending my knees and begging him to finish me with my wanting stare.
He catches the tip of his tongue between his teeth as his eyes narrow on mine, and I’m hoping he’s asking for permission to not use a condom with me.
“I’m on birth control, and for added measure, the timing for this is pretty much perfect. If we’re ever going to fuck, this is the night,” I say, my brazen proposition seeming to amuse him as a sinister smile takes over his mouth.
“Then we’re going to fuck, Linds. And it’s going to happen more than once tonight, because when I have a good game, I like to celebrate.”
He slips his pants and boxers from his lower legs, then wraps his hands around my ankles, dragging me to the edge of the bed with my knees parted and my center pulsing with need.
He drops to his knees, and I brace myself for his tongue.
I wish I was wearing something sexier, but this is what giving in to spontaneous bad decisions begets.
Besides, Brooks seems perfectly fine with my mismatched set of basic lingerie.
His eyes are fixed on mine at first, until his fingertips walk along my inner thigh.
When he reaches the strip of material barely covering me, he drags it to the side and covers my swollen clit with his mouth.
He sucks hard at first, flicking my pussy with his tongue before lapping me up with flat, wide strokes.
My hips buck, but his heavy palm rests on my abdomen, pinning me down and forcing me to take every pass of pleasure as he brings me near the edge.
I fold my arms over my face, muting my whimpers by covering my mouth as my orgasm threatens to climax with the next pass of Brooks’s tongue. But just when I mentally give in to the fact I’m going to come this way, he stops.
“What?” I breathe out, the ache in my chest deep with need.
I lift my arm at the feel of his absence, but before I can protest, he’s urging me to lift my hips so he can slide a pillow under my ass, making our bodies better aligned.
His focus is singular, and the second I come to rest on the pillow, he tugs my panties to the side and thrusts his cock inside of me.
My head falls back, and I cup my mouth with both hands to hold in the scream of pleasure I’m desperate to let out. Brooks is thick, and even if I had a sex life with my ex for the last year of our marriage, I wouldn’t have been prepared for his size.
He slides out slowly, pressing his thumb against my clit and rubbing circles.
The pulses take over almost immediately, and when he slides into me again, the first wave takes over my body.
My knees fall apart wider, and my gaze is glued to his as he rocks his hips, driving his cock into me while my entire nervous system shudders in response.
The orgasm takes my breath away, but the vision of Brooks staring at me with such hunger, such intent to make sure I am satisfied, fills my lungs again.
And I’m no sooner over one orgasm before a second one builds.
“Come with me,” I say, moving my hands to my breasts and pinching my nipples while Brooks watches.
His hands dig into my hips, pulling me into him with every thrust so his cock sinks deeper into me. The rush of pleasure winds up again, and the intensity in Brooks’s stare signals he’s close, too.
I roll my hips as he pulls me toward him, my body pushing onto his in new ways that seem to carry him into bliss.
He grunts as his cock flexes inside me, filling me with warmth until he finally pulls out and paints my abdomen with the last drops of cum to spill from his tip.
I run my fingertips through his arousal, massaging it into my skin until I’m sticky and coated with him.
While I would understand if he gathered his things and escaped to his own room to shower and sleep, he doesn’t seem in a hurry to run away. Instead, he peels back my comforter, coaxes me to crawl underneath, and covers me with it—then he slides in and holds me against his chest.
My room smells of sex and bad decisions, but my heart is steady and my lungs fill completely.
I’m caught in an odd paradox of delayed regret and a realized fantasy, and before I can talk myself out of making things worse by staying right where I am, I close my eyes and let the weight of the day carry me to sleep.
Anything that happens next is for future Lindsey to sort out. Present Lindsey thinks things are jusssst fine.