Chapter 6 - Maya #2
"Hold onto me if you need to," he says. "And don't hold back those sounds. I want to hear exactly what I'm doing to you.
Then his mouth is on me, and I forget how to breathe. His tongue runs up my slit in one long, slow stroke, and my knees buckle. His hands grip my hips, steadying me, holding me in place as he does it again. And again. Each stroke thorough, like he's savoring every second, learning every inch of me.
"Oh my God," I gasp, my hands flying to his hair.
He makes a satisfied sound against me, the vibration sending shocks through my core, and then his tongue finds my clit and I actually cry out.
He works me like he works in the kitchen, with precision and passion and absolute confidence.
This is a man who knows exactly what he's doing, who can read every gasp and tremor and adjust accordingly.
His tongue swirls around my clit in tight circles, then flattens to give me broader strokes, alternating between the two until I can't tell which I need more.
"Levi, fuck—" My fingers tighten in his hair.
He pulls back just enough to speak, his breath hot against my wet flesh. "You taste incredible. Better than I imagined."
Before I can process that, that he's imagined this, that he's thought about how I'd taste, his mouth is back on me with renewed hunger. This time he sucks my clit between his lips, gentle at first and then harder, and my hips jerk forward involuntarily.
"That's it," he murmurs. "Take what you need."
One of his hands slides from my hip, and then I feel his fingers at my entrance, teasing, circling but not entering. I'm so wet I can feel it coating his fingers, can hear the loud sounds as he gathers my juices.
"Please," I whimper, and I don't even know what I'm begging for.
He knows. Of course he knows.
Two thick fingers slide inside me, and I moan so loud it echoes off the kitchen walls. He works them deeper, curling them just right, finding that spot inside me that makes my vision blur.
"You're so tight," he groans against me. "So perfect. I can feel you squeezing my fingers."
I'm not going to last. There's no way I can last when he's doing this to me, when every nerve ending in my body is on fire, when he's between my thighs like this is exactly where he wants to be.
His fingers move faster, harder, hitting my g-spot over and over while his tongue works my clit. He adds a third finger and the stretch is almost too much, almost painful, but then he does something with his tongue, a quick flick followed by a hard suck, and pleasure crashes over pain.
"Levi, I'm… I'm going to—"
"Come for me," he demands, his voice muffled against my pussy. "I want to feel you fall apart on my tongue."
His fingers curl hard inside me, pressing that perfect spot, and his lips seal around my clit, sucking firmly.
My legs give out completely but Levi's there, one strong arm wrapping around my waist to hold me up while his mouth and fingers work me through every aftershock.
He doesn't stop. Even as I'm trembling and gasping and probably making incoherent sounds, he keeps going, drawing it out until I'm oversensitive and shaking and practically sobbing.
"Too much," I finally manage, tugging at his hair.
He gentles immediately, placing soft kisses on my inner thighs as his fingers slowly withdraw. When he finally sits back and looks up at me, his beard is wet with me, his lips swollen, his eyes absolutely wrecked.
"Fucking beautiful," he says roughly. "Watching you come apart like that… Christ, Maya."
I'm still trembling, still trying to remember how to form words. No one has ever made me come like that. No one has ever taken their time like that, paid attention like that, cared about my pleasure like that.
He stands slowly, his hands sliding up my body as he rises, and pulls me against him. I can feel how hard he is through his jeans, pressing against my stomach, and fresh heat pools low in my belly even though I just came harder than I ever have in my life.
"You okay?" he asks, his hands framing my face.
"I'm so much better than okay." I lean into his touch. "That was incredible."
"Good." He kisses me, soft and sweet, and I can taste myself on his tongue. It should be weird but it's not. It's hot as fuck. "But we're not done yet."
"No?" My voice comes out breathy.
"Not even close." His thumb traces my lower lip. "You said you wanted everything. I plan to give you everything."
I reach for his shirt, suddenly desperate to see him, to touch him, to return even a fraction of the pleasure he just gave me. "Then we need to get you naked."
He helps me pull his shirt over his head, and I let myself look. Really look.
Levi Harper is built like someone who spends hours in a kitchen: strong shoulders and arms from lifting heavy pots and pans, a solid chest dusted with dark hair, a slight softness around his middle that makes him real and human and absolutely perfect.
I run my hands over his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin, the steady thud of his heartbeat. When my fingers find his nipples, he sucks in a sharp breath.
"Sensitive?" I ask, doing it again.
"Everything's sensitive right now," he admits. "I'm so fucking hard it hurts."
I let my hand drift lower, over his stomach, to the obvious bulge in his jeans. When I cup him through the denim, he groans and his hips thrust forward into my touch.
"Maya—"
"Can I?" I'm already working his belt buckle open.
"Fuck yes."
I make quick work of his belt and zipper, then push his jeans and boxer briefs down together. His cock springs free, thick and hard and weeping at the tip, and my mouth literally waters.
He's bigger than I expected, bigger than anyone I've been with before, and for a second, I wonder if he'll fit. But then he's kicking off his jeans and backing me toward the stainless steel counter, and I stop thinking entirely.
"Up," he commands, lifting me easily onto the cold metal surface.
I gasp at the temperature against my bare ass, but then Levi's between my thighs again and I forget everything else. He's completely naked now, his cock jutting between us, and he looks at me with such raw hunger that I clench around nothing.
"I need to be inside you," he says roughly.
"I want to feel you," I whisper. "No barriers. Just you and me."
I feel the broad head of his cock at my entrance, pressing against me, and I spread my legs wider in invitation.
"Look at me," he commands.
I meet his eyes, those dark, intense eyes that have been watching me for weeks.
"I want to see your face when I fill you," he says. "Want to watch you take every inch."
Then he pushes forward, slow and steady, and I feel every ridge and vein as he stretches me open.
"Oh fuck," I gasp, my hands gripping his shoulders.
"So tight," he groans, pushing deeper. "Squeezing me so perfectly."
He's not even halfway in and I already feel impossibly full. But he keeps going, keeps pressing forward until finally his hips are flush against mine and he's buried completely inside me.
We both freeze, breathing hard, adjusting to the sensation.
"You okay?" His voice is strained with the effort of holding still.
I nod, not trusting my voice.
"Good. Because I'm about to fuck you on this counter until you can't remember your own name."
And then he starts to move, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in, and I learn exactly what it means to be thoroughly, completely claimed.