12. G-spot whisperer
G-spot whisperer
When dinner was finished, Jules went to help Malcom clean up the kitchen, but he waved her off.
“You’re the guest,” he said.
“All right,” she acquiesced, but instead of going back to her chair, she hopped up on the island to stay close to him.
She had no real domestic experience with a man, and found herself actually enjoying watching him tidy his domain—she also really enjoyed checking him out and appreciating the graceful way he moved.
He appeared so comfortable in his own skin it seemed hard to believe he could ever be shy, or in any way self-conscious.
Maybe it did come and go? If that was the case, it was definitely gone for now.
It didn’t take long until he was done, and he returned to her.
Jules spread her legs a little to give him room in front of her and he leaned forward, hands beside her thighs on the countertop.
The simple act of being semi-boxed in had her senses buzzing with anticipation for whatever was going to come next.
It was her turn to become slightly flushed under his gaze, her heart rate increasing as he slowly leaned in to kiss her. Malcom tasted like maple syrup as she teased his tongue with hers, reveling in the crush of his lips. Too soon—and to her disappointment—he ended the kiss.
“Lay back,” he ordered, the words soft, yet firm.
It took her a few seconds to register what he’d said, and then her thoughts began whirling. Jules could really only think of two reasons why he’d want her on her back, and the height of the island might make one of them a little difficult for him, despite the fact he was fairly tall.
Which meant … Malcom wanted to go down on her?
On their second date? Before he’d seen her naked, or even played with her tits?
Before she’d even blown him?
In her dating experience, this was unheard of.
Had she found a unicorn?
It was time to find out.
Eyes locked with his, Jules leaned back until she was bracing herself slightly on her arms, complying with his command but maintaining the ability to watch him.
Slowly, he took one of her feet and lifted it so that he could unzip and remove her boot.
After setting it aside, he did the same to her other foot.
Next, he placed his hands on her legs, just above her knees and under her skirt, then slowly pushed it up until her white panties were exposed to his gaze.
For a second, she worried he might be disappointed by what he was seeing.
Paige’s bra and panty collection could have been mistaken for a mini Victoria’s Secret store, but Jules had never been one to spend a lot of money on scraps of lace to impress the men she slept with.
Now, however, she kind of wished she was wearing something with a little more Wow , because Malcom was someone she’d like to impress.
Without saying a word, he lifted her legs up and set her feet on the counter with enough space for him to lean forward and hook his fingers in the waistband of her panties. She watched as he lifted her slightly and slid her panties up her thighs, then down her calves, and off.
She was now fully bared to his gaze, and his eyes drank her in, appreciating the trimmed triangle of auburn hair, before bending his head and softly rubbing his nose against her, inhaling deeply several times.
When he’d gotten his fill, he raised up and traced the sides of her swollen outer labia with his thumbs, before separating them to open up his ‘work’ space.
Then, he lowered his head once again and pressed his mouth to her petal-pink flesh.
Her sweet sigh was almost as loud as his.
At first, he was slow and gentle as he got to know her intimate parts, running his tongue along her inner labia and circling her clit, but as he got more focused on her pleasure rather than his exploration, Jules reclined all the way back, and in the process, bonked her head on the granite countertop.
At the thunk , he stopped what he was doing and looked up .
“Don’t stop, Mal,” she told him. “I’m fine.”
“Mal?”
Realizing she’d shortened his name in the heat of the moment, and thinking he might not like it, she started to say, “I’m sorry—”
“Don’t be. I like it.”
Then, instead of resuming what he’d been doing, he straightened up and quickly unbuttoned his shirt, then took it off. After rolling it into a makeshift pillow and placing it under her head, he asked, “There. Better?”
“Actually, it would be even better it you gave me that one, too,” she countered, pointing to the white T-shirt he was still wearing.
With a hint of a smile, he pulled the shirt off, and while he was rolling it for her, she took in his bare chest. At forty-two, he was still in great shape, with a respectably defined chest and flat abdomen.
His shoulders and arms were nice, too, making it clear he spent some time working out to maintain an impressive physique, even if he wasn’t a true gym rat.
He had tight nipples and a light smattering of dark hair that narrowed to a happy trail, which disappeared into his jeans …
where he was sporting what appeared to be an impressive erection.
Before she could tell him to lose his pants, Malcom was getting back to work.
Jules was no stranger to receiving oral sex, but she wasn’t used to this level of service. She honestly couldn’t remember the last time she’d been eaten like a filet mignon instead of a cheeseburger.
She also couldn’t remember the last time she’d come so quickly, or so hard, that her entire body was practically writhing on the counter as her orgasm steam-rolled through her.
After mostly recovering, she raised herself up on her elbows and met his gaze from where he was still parked in between her legs, looking pleased with himself. However, as she attempted to sit up, he immediately frowned.
“What are you doing?”
The question confused her. “I’m … getting up.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I’m not?”
“No, because I’m not finished.”
She was now even more confused. “You’re not?”
“No. That was my warm-up. ”
She blinked at him. That was his warm-up? He was going for another round?
“You look confused,” he said.
“I am,” she admitted.
He seemed genuinely pleased at her befuddlement, and his tone was dripping with amusement when he repeated his order from earlier. “Lay back.”
Jules quickly complied, and this time as he was ravishing her with velvety licks of his tongue and sucking on her clit, he eased two fingers inside her and began rubbing her G-spot.
“Oh, my God,” she muttered. “Stay there, if you can. That’s my G-spot.”
“I know.”
Because everything felt so good, she was only peripherally impressed he’d not only found it, but knew he’d found it and was working it like a pro.
He really was a unicorn.
“You’re the first man to find it,” she managed to get out.
His chuckle was deep, even as his fingers continued their delicious work. “I see. Well, good for me.”
“No … good for me. ”
The last part came out with a groan, as Malcom was stroking her G-spot in earnest now. With the added stimulation, her rise to orgasm this time felt different. It was more intense, and there was also an accompanying sense of having the urge to pee, which had her slightly alarmed.
“Mal, stop,” she told him, but he held firm.
“Why?”
“It feels like I’m going to … pee.”
If anything, his fingers moved faster. “Good, that means you’re getting close.”
“Close?” Jules could hear the panic in her voice. “To peeing on you?”
“No, to coming. See, the orgasm from your G-spot—you can actually ejaculate a little—uses the same tunnel as when you pee, so that’s why you feel like you’re going to pee.You’re not going to, but that’s what it feels like.”
The urge was so strong, now, that she tried closing her legs, but only trapped his head there. “Mal, I don’t want to—”
“You’re not going to pee. Trust me,” he said. “Just let go and let it happen.”
He then pressed his mouth to her clit, licking and tugging as she tipped over the edge, and rushed toward her climax. She wanted to trust him, but the fear of actually peeing on him just wouldn’t go away.
Malcom must have felt her tensing again, because he growled, “Don’t fight it.”
It was his tone more than anything that made it possible for her to let go (in the back of her mind, however, was the thought that if she really did pee on him, it would be his own fault), and when Jules came, it was unlike anything she’d ever experienced.
As her body was racked with waves of pleasure, she felt herself release a gush of fluid, not unlike the sensation of peeing, although peeing had never felt this good.
Groaning loudly, she rocked against his mouth to ride out every last bit of the orgasm, not wanting to waste any. As it receded, every one of her muscles went limp, as if she’d just competed in a triathlon. Or three.
When she was able to lift her head, she looked down to see Malcom running a hand over his mouth and chin. Then, holding her gaze, he deliberately put the two fingers he’d just had inside her into his mouth and sucked on them for a moment.
“I’ve never experienced anything like that,” she whispered, uncaring of her still-spread legs and the fact his face was essentially inches away from her pussy. “How did you get that good?”
“When I was married, I did some … research … and learned all about the G-spot.”
She was amazed he’d gone to so much trouble for Gwen, and humbled by his dedication to pleasing her, which quickly gave way to being pissed at the other woman for not deserving it. However, that was almost immediately washed away as Jules realized how much she’d benefitted from it.
Ignoring her state of undress and her damp skirt underneath her, she reached for his pants, only to be stopped. “No. I want tonight to be just about this, and to enjoy it for a little while.”
Jules could see his sincerity, and accepted what he wanted, backing away from what would normally would have happened. And as she did, she realized it would be nice to enjoy the hell out of this moment, because it deserved its own appreciation.
It wasn’t sweaty, needy, mind-blowing sex … but it was a damn good start.