Chapter Seventeen
Spencer
I’m determined to take my time.
It’s not easy. Not only is Marama soft all over and plump and moist where it matters, but she’s willing…
more than willing, and that excites me more than anything.
I’ve fantasized about this for years—about being with a woman who likes sex as much as I do.
She’s enthusiastic, her fingers skating over my skin, exploring while I touch her, keen to show me how much I’m turning her on.
Her sighs and moans aren’t loud and theatrical, but she is vocal, which I love.
It fires me up to listen to her groan when I stroke her, or to hear her cry out when I suck her nipples.
I spend ages kissing her—her mouth, her neck, her throat, her breasts, the sensitive skin beneath her arms and the crook of her elbows, down her belly, and over her mound as I shift between her legs.
Slowly, I kiss down her thighs, then hook up her knees with my arms, widen them, and bury my tongue inside her. She squeals, then moans and arches her back, and I groan as I lick her, the amazing mix of sweet and salty, rich and heavenly.
“Ahhh…” She buries her hand in my hair, unashamedly dropping her thighs wide to give me better access, and fuck me if that isn’t the sexiest thing ever.
I slide two fingers inside her and explore that most secret part of her, finding her G-spot and massaging it.
“Oh God,” she says, tilting her hips up and moving them to match my fingers, making it clear that she likes it.
So I continue while I tease her clit with my tongue, my own sighs and groans joining with hers as our bodies spiral with exquisite pleasure.
It’s not long before her breathing changes and her breaths become gasps, but I don’t stop, and she comes on my tongue and clenches around my fingers, crying out with every pulse.
“Oh fuck,” she says when she can finally breath properly again. “Oh, that was so good.”
I kiss her clit lightly, then press my lips up her belly as I move back over her. “I love making you come.” I kiss each nipple, circling the tip of my tongue over them before sucking them into my mouth.
She moans and squirms beneath me. “Mercy,” she whispers.
“No mercy,” I murmur back, kissing up her throat to her lips. “We’re both going to come again and again tonight, until you’re a quivering wreck of a woman, exhausted and sticky and messy and covered in sweat and cum and any other fluids we can conjure up.”
“Oh fuck.”
I take out a condom and roll it on, then lean over her. “Yes, we’re going to fuck, Marama. I’m going to fuck you, and then you can be on top and fuck me, and we’re going to spend the whole night fucking.”
She gives me a look that’s full of longing and desire. “You’re, like, the perfect guy.”
“Maybe wait and see whether you still feel that way at the end, when you can’t walk.”
“Oh God.”
I laugh and slide inside her, all the way up in one smooth thrust. We both groan, and then I lower down on top of her. “Too heavy?” I murmur, kissing her.
She shakes her head, wrapping her legs around my hips. “I like it.”
I begin to move. “So do I. I like feeling your beautiful body. I like owning you and possessing you and making you mine. Because you are mine tonight.”
“All yours.”
“Mmm.” I thrust slowly, almost pulling out each time before I sink back in.
“You belong to me.” I feel a little crazy.
Maybe it’s the alcohol from the Tiramisu making me a little dizzy, uncaring, my inhibitions and worries flying out of the window.
There’s nobody else here to judge. No one else to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do.
Here, in this room, it’s just me and the beautiful goddess of the moon beneath me.
She’s left the curtains open, and when I look at the window, I can see the two of us reflected in the glass.
We look good together, her beautiful, smooth skin a light, cool brown against the warmer brown of my sun-touched body.
Her gentle curves against my hard angles and defined muscles.
I love the way she’s wrapped around me, welcoming me inside her.
How she moves with me, clearly enjoying the sensation of being penetrated and invaded.
I just love everything about this girl.
“Thought you were going to fuck me,” she says mischievously.
I give her an amused look, not stopping the movement of my hips. “Am I missing something?”
“This doesn’t feel like fucking.” She lifts her arms up above her head, stretching out beneath me. “Are you making luuurv to me, Spencer?”
I kiss her, sucking her bottom lip and grazing my teeth on it. “Are you being cheeky to me?”
“Maybe. Watcha gonna do about it?”
I chuckle, lift up onto my hands, and give a sudden, hard thrust. She squeals, then moans, her face flushing. “It wasn’t a complaint.”
“Are you sure? You only have to ask, and I’ll do my best to oblige.”
I start thrusting hard, angling it so I’m grinding against her.
I take each hand, one at a time, and interlink our fingers, then pin them above her head while I thrust. She looks up at me, helpless to do anything but take it, her eyes filled with sleepy ecstasy.
Fuck, that’s hot, and I have to fight to hold in my own desire, until her breathing grows erratic again, and her eyelids flutter shut as her orgasm sweeps over.
I ride her through it, hanging onto my sanity with my fingertips, then let my body do what it’s been wanting to do for a while and thrust hard.
She gasps and cries out, still clenching around me.
I wait as long as I can, making her climax last as long as possible, enjoying her pleasure as much as my own.
She finally flops back and says, “Mmm… come over me, Spencer.”
“You’re sure?”
“Mmm, please…”
So I pull out, whip off the condom, and finish myself off with a few strokes. She watches, eyes alight, and then I frown, my eyes closing as I come over her, covering her body with each thick jet.
“Oooh.” She trails a finger through it, then lifts it to her mouth and sucks it off.
I laugh and bend to kiss her, and she gives a “Mmmph!” of surprise, then delves her tongue into my mouth.
When I lift my head, she says, “That shocked me. Connor would never do that.”
“Neither would Eleanor.” We both give wry smiles.
She looks down at herself. “I should get a towel.”
“Nope.” I give myself another couple of strokes until I’m hard again, then roll on another condom and slide back inside her.
“Oh!” She slides her arms around me as I lower down onto her again. I lie on top, and now we’re both wonderfully wet and sticky and sweaty. “Mmm,” she murmurs, “you naughty boy.”
I look at our reflections for a bit, watching myself moving inside her.
Then I notice the light that marks the edge of the path and turn off the lamp on the bedside table.
It’s still raining, and the soft light from outside passes through the drops running down the glass and falls on us, covering us with rivulets of rain.
“Oh,” she says, brushing a hand over my arms and chest, “that’s beautiful.”
“You’re beautiful. You turn me on.”
She looks down at where I’m thrusting inside her. “So I see.”
“Tell me when you’ve had enough.”
“Never,” she whispers. “Never.”
And thus begins the most erotic evening of my life. After a while I withdraw, roll her over, and take her from behind, and this time, under instructions, I come all over her ass, making both her back and her front wet and sticky.
We take a break and get ourselves a drink and a big bar of Whittaker’s new Banana Caramel chocolate from the kitchen and take it back to bed.
Then I get the great idea to leave a piece on each of her breasts, and after five minutes or so we discover it’s partly melted, and I get the great job of sucking it off.
That leads to her climbing on top of me and riding me. By this point it’s growing warmer in the room, and she lifts her hair up to cool her neck, looking stunning with the reflection of the rain running down her body.
We change position multiple times, and both come again and again.
She matches me in stamina and desire, and just sheer pleasure of the other person’s body.
It turns out she’s bought some massage oil for tonight.
I insist on using it first, and give her a long, sensual massage before giving her a happy ending with my fingers.
She then insists on returning the favor, and it’s much, much later before we both stretch out on the bed, exhausted and sticky, just as I’d promised.
“Don’t you ever say anything about getting old again,” she berates me. “I can’t believe how many times you’ve come tonight.”
“Personal record,” I mumble. “It’s your fault.”
“Oh my God, seriously Spencer, you were right, I’m completely wrecked. You’re amazing.”
My lips curve up. “You know how to make a man feel good.”
She lifts up onto an elbow and looks at me, but doesn’t say anything. I turn my head and meet her gaze, and we study each other for a long time.
I know what she’s thinking, because I’m thinking the same.
Neither of us says anything, though, and eventually she suggests, “Perhaps we should have a quick shower.”
“Yeah. And change the bed.”
We both look at the messy sheets and laugh.
“Come on,” she says.
We get up and shower together, and although it’s still erotic to wash one another, there’s also something tender and gentle in our touch. I’ve shared and done things with her tonight—emotionally and physically—that I’ve never shared or done with anyone else.
When we’re clean and we’ve dried ourselves, we return to the bedroom and change the bottom sheet, then finally get into bed and draw the duvet up over ourselves. I turn her away from me and spoon up behind her, and she brings my hand up to her lips and kisses my fingers.
“Thank you,” she whispers. “That was so amazing.”
“Mmm.”
“Are you asleep?”
“Mmm.”
She chuckles.
Within a few minutes, her breathing evens out, and I know she’s dozed off.