21. Dottie
21
DOTTIE
Every atom in my body is vibrating. The air around us is cold but my skin is unbearably hot. The clothes on my body feel like a prison that I need to escape from, or I will simply die right where I am. My hands are everywhere, on Stephen's shoulders, his face, in his hair. I can't decide where I want to settle because I want to touch him all over.
"I am fucking desperate to taste you, Dorothea."
I mean, fuck. If my clit had a heart, it would have just skipped a goddamn beat. I could feel the rush of wetness pooling in my panties at his words. I never let him go down on me before. He'd asked, practically begged, but I was young and insecure. I was still in that easily influenced phase where mainstream media and – let's be honest, porn – had me convinced that guys didn't like to perform oral on women. That it was a chore, something gross you had to get through to get to the main event, and if I let him try, he might not like me anymore.
Stupid, I know, but that's who I was back then.
Now? Any insecurity I might have had has completely flown the nest, especially with the way Stephen is looking up at me, his eyes glimmering with hope and dirty promises. This man on top of me wants me, I can feel it, and I want him too.
"Stephen," I whisper, running my hand through his hair and then gripping a fist full of it. "Eat me, baby. Please."
"Fuck," he stutters, choking on the word as I nudge him down by his hair. He breathes against my body as he goes, and when his fingers dip into the waistline of my leggings, they feel like flames licking at my skin. I lift my hips and he yanks the cotton down. The blanket falls off his back, but I don't care. He's all the warmth I need, even with my legs now bare to the crisp air.
He kneels and sits back, lifting one leg to remove my fur-lined boot, and then the other. With my shoes gone, he pulls the leggings completely off and gently places them to the side, careful to keep them off the dewy grass. He lowers my legs, and I prop my feet up, spreading my legs and creating a valley for him to climb between.
"Jesus, look at you," he says as reaches out and runs a finger over the damp spot on my panties. I hiss and squirm at his torturous touch. It's not nearly enough to do anything but tease me as he drags his finger up and down .
"These are fucking adorable, sweetheart. I almost feel bad for making such a mess of them," I glance down when he palms my thigh, and realize he's referring to my pink cow-print cheeky panties. I'm about to groan and apologize for not wearing something sexier, but he runs a hand over his mouth, staring down at them like they're the blackest, laciest, most enticing thing he's ever seen.
It's his special skill. Stephen Hudson has always had the ability to make me feel like the most desirable person in any room.
He shuffles down, slinking to the end of the blanket, then runs his big, warm hands over my calves. His light callouses tickle in the most erotic way. His hands are a man's hands. Not just any man, though. They’re working man's hands. Rough and worn and proof of where he's been. He dips his face to my ankle and starts to brush light kisses there, tracing his lips down the arch of my foot.
I twitch and twist from the injection of ecstasy.
He switches legs, moving to my other ankle and dusting kisses there as well. He moves up, up, up, kissing his way from my calf, to my knee, to the inside of my thigh. I tremble as he goes, anticipation and lust warring for dominance in my brain. Just as he reaches the apex of my thighs he switches again, back to my other leg. I whine in protest as he continues his teasing assault up the other side, this time chuckling as he presses open mouthed kisses to my skin.
He hooks his thumbs into the elastic of my panties and yanks them down, pulling them off my feet and shoving them into his pocket. The cold air hits my wet pussy, and just as I'm about to start begging, he dives down, licking a hot stripe from my opening to my clit. I gasp when he flicks his tongue against it, teasing, testing, then sucking the sensitive bud between his lips. My back bows and I cry out my pleasure.
I've seen this in videos. I've read about it in books. My friends have told me all about the thrill of having another person pleasure you with their mouth, but nothing could have prepared my senses for the onslaught of bliss coursing through my veins as Stephen makes love to me with his tongue. I can't think, I can't breathe, I can't do anything but gasp and moan and reach for him.
I dig a hand into his hair and push his face further into my pussy, bucking my hips against him as he alternates between long, luxurious licks and quick flicks of my clit, driving me absolutely wild. He swirls a finger around my entrance, gathering the wetness there before pushing in up to his knuckle. I clench around him, and he starts to work his finger in and out. With his other hand, he reaches up and laces his fingers with mine. I hold our hands to my breasts as he starts to fuck me deeper, adding a second finger and swiping against my inner walls.
The need for release builds and builds inside of me as he works my pussy, and I grind myself wantonly against his tongue. I hold on to the edge for as long as I can, unwilling to let myself fall when everything he's doing feels so fucking good, but when he hums with my clit between his lips, I lose myself. My eyes snap shut, and I scream his name as my orgasm barrels through me, shooting off like fireworks from core. I writhe and fuck his face as he licks me through it, decreasing his speed and pressure as the waves of pleasure roll over me.
When it finally wanes and I release my death grip on his hair, Stephen works his way back up my body until he's hovering over me again – a little clumsily, because he hasn't let go of my hand.
"You come like a fucking daydream, Dorothea. Can I please kiss you?"
When I nod my head yes, he gives me the sweetest half smile before lowering his mouth to mine. I kiss him softly, licking his lips and tasting my own orgasm on his tongue. It's something so painfully intimate that it makes my heart ache in my chest with want. He leans down on me, and his hard cock presses into my belly. Even though the orgasm he just gave me absolutely kicked my ass, the moment I feel his need for me, I ramp back up. I hook my legs around his waist and pull him in tight to my body. Then, with a buck and a shove, I awkwardly roll until he's on his back and I'm pulling my legs out from under him.
"That was a lot hotter in my head," I giggle as we adjust, and he settle me into his lap. He grips my hips and leisurely grinds me against him.
"Mmm, it was plenty hot. "
"Do you have a condom?" I ask as I toy with the hem of his t-shirt. He tilts his head and parts his lip.
"Dorothea," he starts, but I grip his hands, pulling them over his head as I lean down and kiss him. My nipples rub against his chest, the fabric still wet from where he sucked on them, and I shiver.
"Stephen, we don't have to. But you just made me feel so good, and I'd really like to feel good together now."
"My – fuck – my pocket. There's a condom in my front pocket." His hips buck, favoring one side, so I reach down and start to fiddle around in that pocket.
I find a foil packet, but before I take my hand from his pants, I reach deeper and brush against his erection. He hisses and I giggle wickedly at him as I pull the condom out. I let go of my hands and lift my hips so he can push his pants down. He nudges them down just enough and his cock springs free, long and proud and pointing up at me with a bead of arousal already bubbled at the tip. I can't help myself, I lean down and run my tongue against the head, lapping up his salty precum.
"Jesus fucking Christ," He calls out as his hands fly to my hair. He pulls me up, gently. "Don't do that. Not unless you want this to be over before it begins."
I smile and bite my lip, loving how ridiculously turned on he is for me. I tear the foil open and wrap my hand around his cock, giving it a nice long stroke before I roll the condom over him. I wiggle forward, positioning myself over him and rubbing the sheathed head of his cock over my clit.
"I need to tell you something," he says, grimacing.
"Now?" I pout, notching him at my entrance. He hisses and digs his fingers into my hips.
"Yes, now. I don't know how long I'll last. It's been a really, really long time for me, and you're so fucking beautiful and I just, I'm hanging on by a thread here already."
My chest warms. He's so fucking cute, trying his best to be good for me and fighting his own needs. It reminds me of our very first time, where he couldn't stop apologizing for how quickly it was over, no matter how many times I said I didn't care, and how he spent the rest of the night making it up to me.
"Don't worry about lasting, baby. You've already made me feel so fucking incredible, and now I want to do the same for you. I just want to feel you. Can you do that for me? Can you be good and let me ride you until you come?" I ask him, running a hand over his cheek as I start to sink down on him.
His breath comes in heavy pants as he mutters incoherently and nods. I grit my teeth as I take him in. Coming on his face got me nice and wet and loosened me up, but it's still been nine years since I've had a man – this man – inside of me. I take my time lowering, breathing and allowing myself to stretch as he fills me. When I'm fully seated, his fingers are gripping me so tight I know I'm going to have bruises tomorrow.
"Relax, baby," I whisper, and then I start to rock. Up and down, up and down. He moans and whimpers, beautifully noisy in the way he expresses his pleasure to me. I lean forward, and when my clit starts to grind on his pelvis and the thatch of hair there, the friction sends me speeding towards another orgasm. He thrusts up into me, and I can feel him thicken as he chases his release.
"Dorothea, fuck, I'm coming," he stutters as his body seizes. He pulls me down onto him as he comes, and a quick swivel of my hips has me hanging over the edge again myself. My clit grinds against his pelvis as his cock pulses inside me, and I unravel. I bury my nails into his chest as I come, shaking and shivering on top of him. He holds me as we tremble through our orgasms together, and when he's caught his breath, he makes quick work of the condom before pulling the blanket back over our bodies. I snuggle into him, and he buries his nose into my hair.
My eyelids grow heavy, and as I start to drift off, I can hear Stephen mumbling.
"Raspberries. My Dorothea always smells like raspberries."