Chapter 27 #2
I nod into the mattress, knowing that it was more than the action but the trust and the connection that made it so powerful.
He strokes my back in a soothing pattern, and I feel his lips brush my shoulder.
I lift my head slowly, twisting to face him.
Then I rise, sliding to the floor between his knees.
My eyes flick up to meet his. He’s watching me with a desire, but it’s laced with something that seems like awe. It’s my turn. “I want to taste you.”
His jaw clenches. “Oh, fuck. That’s another one of my fantasies. Your smart mouth wrapped around my dick.”
He lifts his hips and helps me get them off, his cock springing free. He’s thick, long, and already hard. My mouth waters.
I push him back on the bed until he’s sitting again, one hand braced behind him, the other tugging my hair back from my face.
Wrapping my fingers around the base of him, I squeeze tight. My tongue flicks out as I drag it slowly along his length, watching his reaction.
His eyes roll back. “Yep. Not gonna last.”
That just makes me do it again.
“Fuck,” he hisses, trying to push his hips up.
I grin and finally take him into my mouth slowly. I swirl my tongue, sucking just the tip, then hollow my cheeks and take him deeper.
His fingers tighten in my hair. “Holy fuck.”
I watch him the whole time, loving the way his chest rises, the way his thighs tense. His control is slipping, and I can’t get enough.
I take him all the way to the back of my throat, inhaling the scent of his skin. I’m so turned on as I take care of him. I’m on my knees, but we both know I’m in control of him right now.
I start moving faster, hand working in sync with my mouth. His hips jerk, and then...
“Fuck… Rae… Yes, yes,” he grits out as his cum hits my throat, and I swallow fast, never looking away from his face. His eyes are squeezed shut, jaw clenched, and every muscle in his body is drawn taut. And when he opens his eyes and looks at me, there’s a rawness in there. I’ve never felt better.
He slumps back, chest heaving, and his hand loosens in my hair.
I pull back slowly, wiping my mouth as he’s still shuddering. I wonder if he’ll need a minute. If he’ll just want to lie there and recover. If maybe we’re done for now.
“Come here,” he says hoarsely.
I crawl up, expecting maybe a moment of hesitation. But he kisses me hard, tasting himself on my tongue and not giving a damn.
“You killed me,” he says against my lips. “I have zero control when it comes to you.”
“I’m not sorry.”
He growls softly. “I need you to come one more time before I fuck you. Because honestly? If you’re already spent... maybe, I’ll actually last longer.”
“I don’t like your chances.” But even as I say it, heat is already pooling between my legs. Apparently, my body is very much on board with this plan.
He picks me up and places me on his bed.
Ripping off his T-shirt, he tosses it aside.
I take him in. He’s every bit as hot as I imagined.
There’s a bit of hair on his chest that trails down over his stomach; it’s sexy and masculine, and his body is toned in all the right places.
Visible beneath the hair on his chest is a thin, pale scar running down his sternum.
I lean forward and press a kiss to the scar.
When I pull back, he’s staring down at me like I just gave him something he didn’t know he needed.
“Stop looking at me like that.”
“What? I’m just admiring you.”
“You’re… Fuck... Honestly?” He shakes his head. “You’re so easy to read. It’s written all over your face how badly you want me.”
“Well, that’s unfair,” I say, crossing my arms. I’m still trying to figure out if he’s serious or teasing half the time. “I wish I could read you as easily.”
“Trust me. You can. You just don’t know how to look yet.”
He lies back on the bed, eyes dark with need.
“I want you to use my face.”
I suck in a sharp breath. I’ve never been asked to do that before. But after the spanking, I’ll try anything with him.
Crawling over him, I hover above his face. His hands grip my hips, and he pulls me down onto his mouth.
As soon as his tongue touches me, I moan and melt, hips rolling as pleasure pulses through me.
He groans into me, the vibration sending another shiver through my spine.
“Are you gonna come just from eating my pussy?” I ask breathlessly.
“Who fucking knows with you,” he replies between strokes of his tongue. “Probably.”
Something about his helplessness and honesty makes something in me snap.
His mouth is relentless, tongue dragging over me with precision, dipping in and out, teasing me with soft, slow licks before suddenly sucking my clit with just enough pressure to make me quiver.
My thighs tremble around his face, and still he doesn’t let up.
“Well, I want to see you,” I pant.
He grunts in acknowledgement but doesn’t stop, letting me shift into a reverse straddle, my knees bracketing his head as I face the rest of his body.
Now I can see his cock, hard, thick, flushed, and twitching with every sound I make. The image alone drives me closer to the edge. He’s not even touching himself, and yet he's dripping for me.
He grips my thighs tighter, holding me to his face. His tongue circles my clit in hard, deliberate strokes until I can barely breathe and I grind down, chasing my orgasm.
Then he thrusts his tongue inside me, fingers spreading me open just enough, and I cry out, one hand flying to brace on his stomach, feeling the hard muscle flex beneath my palm and the heat of his skin.
He doesn’t stop; it's like he needs me to come just as badly as I do. My vision blurs as I watch it happen. His cock jerks, untouched, and he comes all over himself. Oh my God. The sight sends me over, and I understand what he meant about having no control. Because watching him fall apart like this makes me feel desired in a way I’ve never experienced.
My whole body tightens, thighs squeezing around his head as I come apart on his tongue with a cry of his name.
When the trembling finally starts to ease, I crawl forward, heart pounding, and lower myself to his stomach.
I lick him clean. I don’t know what comes over me. I just need to taste him. I need to finish this the way I started, with all of him.
Beneath me, he groans.
“You’re gonna fucking ruin me.”
I don’t know what that means, and right now, I don’t care.
Slowly, I get up on shaky legs.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks.
“I want to lie beside you,” I say. My legs still quivering, my mind still fuzzy, but all I want to do right now is be close to him. Have his arms around me and process what just happened. “I think I need a moment to recover.”
“You want something to eat or drink?”
I shake my head. “No, I’m good.”
“Let me just get some cream for you.”
He returns from the bathroom and gently massages it into my tender skin.
After washing his hands, he rejoins me in bed, pulling me into his side.
My head rests against his chest, warm and steady under my cheek.
The rhythm of his heart, the soft texture of his chest hair, it’s a form of comfort I didn’t expect to want.
I shouldn’t be doing this. Cuddling is intimate. It’s more than just sex. It’s the kind of thing you do with someone you’re in a relationship with, not someone you’re having a fling with. I should let him fuck me so I can get up and leave. I’ve never cuddled with a fling before.
His fingers brush through my hair. My eyes grow heavy, and I drift off to sleep.
I wasn’t even tired, but something about being here, wrapped in his warmth, surrounded by his woody cologne, calms me in a way I didn’t expect. It settles something in me.
When I wake up, the room is light but quiet. I blink, disoriented for a second, then hear his voice.
“Hey, sleepyhead.” He pulls me tighter to him.
I tilt my head up and meet his gaze. “Hey. Sorry… you’re just too comfortable.”
“Don’t be sorry,” he says softly, brushing a piece of hair away from my face. His fingers trace my jaw, and he leans down and presses a kiss to the top of my forehead. “You needed the rest for the next round.”
“Oh?” I arch an eyebrow, my eyes locked on his.
He bends forward, and we kiss.
My body is relaxed but already starting to wake up in other ways. Already starting to want him again. “Are you ready now?”
“Are you?” I glance down. The tent in the sheets answers that question for him.
“Well,” I tease. “What if I’m not ready?”
He leans in. “Then I’ll just have to make you ready.”
His fingers glide over my skin, along my back, down my arm, across my thighs. I was ready the whole time. I just didn’t want to make it too easy for him.
Then he reaches over and opens the drawer beside the bed.
“Oh, you have a condom?”
“I told you I had some at home.”
“Yeah, well, maybe you need to be more prepared at work.”
He chuckles, but there’s a flicker of seriousness in his eyes. “We have to be careful.”
He’s right. We do have to be careful. But it doesn’t shift the mood for me.
I watch as he rolls the condom on, slow and precise, and then he holds himself steady as I straddle him, lowering myself onto him inch by inch.
He’s thick and long, and it’s been a long while since my last hookup, so I take my time, adjusting, breathing through the tightness.
When I finally sink all the way down, the sensation steals my breath, the fullness overwhelming.
Our eyes hold each other’s as we still for a second, taking this in.
This is the moment we’ve been building toward.
It feels monumental. My hands are shaking slightly as I brace them on his chest, the world narrowing.
I watch his face, then glance down to where our bodies join. The sight of it is so intimate, like we were made for this. Then I look back up, meeting his eyes again. And I move. It sends sparks up my spine.