Chapter 11 #4
"Supposed to be aroused, honey. That's the whole point." He looks up at me, grinning. "I can take the pressure off you, though. I bet I can guess what happened that has you all…twitterpated."
"Oh,” I breathe. "Do tell."
I am assuredly not as casual and unaffected as I endeavor to sound.
He nuzzles the inside of my thigh—despite my multi-layered mortification, his lips kissing the inside of my thigh has me easing my thighs apart—just slightly.
Another kiss, to the inside of my other thigh; another subtle easing of the tension in my thighs.
Again and again he kisses and nuzzles my thighs, and again and again I feel myself involuntarily letting my legs sag open farther and farther.
Which only serves to expose the source of my embarrassment: my sex, and the way my panties stick to my skin.
He moves further down my body, now on his belly between my knees, and his hands carve up over my belly and cup my breasts and knead them and twist my nipples until I gasp, until another blast of wet heat sears through me, culminating in another gush of wetness between my thighs.
"Riley!" I gasp.
"Look at me, babe," he murmurs, and I force my eyes to open and to meet his; he drags a finger down the seam of my vagina, the outlines of which I know must be visible, being adhered to my flesh. "Fuck yeah," he snarls, "You're wet as hell for me, sweetheart."
I squeal a groan, covering my face. "I know!" I hiss. "I cannot help it. The arousal your attentions causes in me—"
"Cadence, honey?" Something in his tone catches my attention and rips the words out of my mouth. "You're fuckin' soaked." He—and I can hardly believe my eyes—nuzzles his nose and mouth against me, exactly where I am the wettest, inhaling sharply, greedily, eagerly.
"RILEY!" I protest.
He grins. "Sexy as fuck, knowing you're so fucking wet for me."
"But is that not…" I begin, only to lose my train of thought when he nuzzles me again, and then presses his mouth over my vagina and blows a hot breath against me through the cotton of my panties.
I gasp at the heat of his breath, and feel myself pulse, another rush of arousal hitting me like a freight train.
"The more turned on you get, the wetter your pussy gets." When I gasp in shock at his dirty word, he grins at me. “That scandalize you, sweetest girl?" His ice-blue eyes sear me to the bone, slice me to ribbons with their razor-sharp arousal. "Me talking about how wet your pussy is?"
I can only whimper. Shake all over. His shoulders are wedged between my thighs, so now I cannot even hide my arousal by pressing my thighs together; there is no alleviation of the maddening, mind-twisting, body-contorting need for…something…that has utterly taken control of my mind and body.
"Riley, please," I whisper, my voice breathless; I do not know what I am asking him for.
"What do you want, babe? What do you need?"
"I do not know!" I wail, arching my spine as he seizes my nipple in his mouth and suckles on it until it flattens in his mouth. "Oh! Oh my goodness, I…I do not know what I need, Riley. But I need…something. Please help me, Riley. Please. I am going mad."
"Going mad, you say?" He covers my seam with his mouth and huffs on me again. "Feeling…needy? Desperate?"
“Yes!"
"I know what you need, Cadence."
I flick my eyes to his and hold his gaze. "Tell me! Please tell me. I cannot bear this any longer."
He does not comply immediately, as I had expected. Instead, he spends several more moments kissing and licking and sucking on my nipples—which only worsens the crazed desperation I feel for any kind of deliverance from this wild, primal, out-of-control need.
And then he kisses down my body again, from breasts to navel to mons pubis. He hooks his fingers in my panties again and tugs them lower in front—the uppermost hint of my cleft is exposed, now.
"What do I need, Riley?" I demand. "Please tell me?"
"You need to come, sweetheart." He grins up at me, releasing my underwear so they snap back against me again. "You need an orgasm."
“How…" I begin in a raw whisper, lose my voice, my courage, and try again. "How do I…How do I acquire one?"
He stares up at me, eyes heated and wild, and tugs the gusset of my panties to one side, partially exposing my sex.
I gasp, shrill and shocked—only to gasp again, more shocked yet, when he trails a fingertip down the lips of my sex.
I jerk at this touch, every muscle tensing.
"You let me make you come." He does it again, and I hunch forward, doing a crunch at his touch. "You ask me to make you come."
"Oh," I breathe. “I see.”
I focus on the stars for a moment, then, momentarily overwhelmed by sensation and by need and by awe that I am here, experiencing this—it is real. It is happening. He wants me—Riley Crowe desires me.
Just forty-eight hours ago, I was lost and lonely and sad. I had never been kissed. I had no hope that anyone would ever want to kiss me. And now I am in the bed of a pickup truck, wearing nothing but my panties, and the most attractive man I have ever seen wants to give me an orgasm.
And I am going to let him.
Let him? No, no. Plead with him to have mercy upon me—that is what I shall do.
"Riley?" I breathe. Run my fingers through his hair. "Please, Riley."
"Please what?" he asks.
"Help me."
"Help you what?"
"You know."
“Yeah. But I need to hear you say the words."
"I do not know if I can."
He releases the gusset, and I am covered again…but then he grasps my panties at my hips and looks at me. "Tell me to take 'em off you," he commands.
"Riley, will you please remove my panties?" My voice is a tiny, embarrassed whisper.
"Louder."
I clear my throat. "Riley, will you please remove my panties?" I say it firmly, cheeks so hot one could almost fry an egg on them.
"Butt up, honey," he says.
I lift my backside. Hold my breath. Watch as Riley tugs my panties down past my hips, and then over the swell of my backside, and then my sex is exposed and he is tossing my panties aside with my dress and I am naked in front of a man for the first time in my life.
Embarrassed and aroused, I want for one desperate moment to curl into a ball and hide from his hungry eyes. But I do not—I cannot.
I will not.
Tears stain my eyes—I hate them, but I cannot stop them.
He sees.
"Hey, hey, hey, what's this?" he whispers, rising up the length of my body, leaning on an elbow to smear the tears away. "Cadence, if I—"
I cover his mouth. "No," I whisper over him. "I am not upset. I'm…"
“Overwhelmed?" he guesses.
“Yes."
"Need to stop? Or just take a minute?"
I nod.
He slides one thick, burly arm under my neck, and now he's curled over me on his side, sheltering me from the ever-watchful gaze of the stars, and his eyes are on mine and nowhere else. "I got you, honey. Long as you need. We can get dressed and go, if you want."
"No!" I exclaim, more forcefully than I had intended; it is almost a shout. "No. No. Please, I do not want to stop, or to leave. I am just…I feel so many things, and…"
"This help at all?" he breathes, and his mouth slants against mine, and I whimper at the heat of his mouth.
"Yes," I gasp between kisses. "Yes, it does."
It more than helps, in fact.
It emboldens me.
I explore the broad hard field of his back and shoulders, my sensitive fingertips identifying each muscle—levator scapulae, trapezius, latissimus dorsi, rhomboids major and minor…
Lower.
Lower.
I run into the barrier of his jeans.
I turn my fingertips to face his toes as I explore his abdomen, lower and lower, until I find the beginning of his iliac furrow. When I fit my middle finger into the groove of the furrow and slide my touch toward his waistband, his stomach curls inward.
An invitation?
I believe so.
He, meanwhile, kisses me as if we face execution on the morrow—with utter desperation, with complete hunger.
His tongue demands mine—and I give him what he demands, most eagerly.
The kiss erases my overwhelm, and I lose myself in his mouth, his tongue, his hunger.
I lose myself in my own desire. I feel my need pooling at the juncture of my thighs, making my sex slippery and so, so wet, so hot.
The pressure within is titanic and impossible and maddening.
And with it, now that I am touching his marvelous, masculine body, my own desire for him is a new thing, a hunger to know more of him, a need to feel his muscle, his heat, his hardness, his flesh, his arousal.
I find the cold roundness of the button of his jeans. Flip it through the loop.
Riley growls into the kiss. "It's like that, is it?"
"If you will allow it, yes," I whisper.
"You don't need to ask, honey." He cups my cheek as he kisses me, and then pulls away and we look at each other for a moment.
"Listen to me, okay? I'm here for you. Whatever you want, whatever you need.
" Another kiss, hot, all tongue, quick. "My body is yours, Cadence.
Explore. Do whatever you want." Heart pounding in my ears, I find the tab of his zipper and tug it down.
I am panting with anxiousness and nerves and need and anticipation.
Riley's hand smooths over my belly and soars down one bare hip.
His mouth covers mine and I whimper and lift up and open my mouth to his, and I offer him my tongue, and he takes it with a growl in his chest. With his jeans loose and open, I let my touch roam his back once more, from shoulders to the elastic of his underwear.