Chapter 66 #2
“And those, but I will help you remove them.” He went down to his knees and kissed the inside of my thigh.
My whole body quivered. He moved up and kissed my hip bone.
He clasped the lace in his teeth, using both fingers and teeth he pulled them down.
I stepped out of them and kicked them to the side.
His fingers worked the cheeks of my ass.
His mouth went straight to the slit between my legs.
I gasped, arched my head to the sky as his tongue burst inside. Oh good Lord.
I ran my fingers through his thick hair.
My whole body was alight with fire. His fingers circled that sweet spot, his tongue worked the interior and he sucked, licked and stroked, licked, stroked, and sucked.
A soft moan fell from my lips. It was insanely delicious, the fire increased in my head, I was about to explode.
As much as he loved control, I didn’t like being dominated.
Except, of course, when I did. I stepped back out of his grasp.
“Stand up,” I commanded.
He rose and I dropped to my knees and took him in my mouth.
He groaned. His hands clutched at the back of my head, caressing my hair.
I clawed my fingernails into his ass and pulled him into me.
I rocked my mouth back and forth, teasing with my tongue against the head of his penis.
I tried to take all of him into my mouth, but I couldn’t.
He closed his eyes and arched his head, his breathing fast and heavy.
He groaned my name and then he pulled away suddenly.
“I’d like to go a little longer,” he explained when I looked up confused.
I smiled and jumped to my feet. “Then I will do my best to make it worth your while.”
“You only need to lie there, Amelia, and that would be enough for me,” he purred.
I laughed. “Karson, please, when are you going to learn those cheesy lines don’t work on me?”
He raised an eyebrow. He rammed two fingers inside me and twisted them, I gasped and moaned. “Ah, but Amelia, clearly they do.”
He pulled me back against his body, his fingers working inside of me, twisting and turning, back and forth.
He added a third, speared into me until it burned, I moaned.
I didn’t want him to stop but I didn’t want to reach that high place yet, and I was getting close.
Oh, so close. He read my thoughts, and pulled his fingers out.
My lips crushed against his for a few moments.
I pulled away and pushed his body backward.
He dropped to the grass onto his back and lay staring up at me.
I lowered myself down. I loved the feel of my breasts squashed against his strong chest, my pelvic bone pushed up against his thigh.
His hardness against my stomach. I traced my finger over his perfect face, along the outline of his chin and carved jaw.
His eyes were floating, dark pupils. My heart lurched and swelled in my chest with such intensity I thought it might burst. I wanted to say, ‘I love you.’ I didn’t. I couldn’t. Not yet.
“Are you waiting for anything in particular?” he asked with an arrogant, smug look that I both loved and hated at the same time.
“No, just taking in the view,” I said, rolling off his body and moving my hand down to caress his penis.
I moved it lightly over the tip, wrapping my palm around it, moving my hand slowly up and down its length.
Before I knew what was happening he had me flipped off him and onto my back as he plunged inside.
He rode me hard and fast. The walls of my vagina burned, it was an exquisite torture, the heat grew and grew until it almost became too much.
Just when I thought I could take no more he slowed down.
There were birds tweeting in the background, the sound of the river sliding against its banks, the sky was blue and I was in heaven.
He slid off. “Turn over,” he breathed into my ear.
I rolled over. He reached under my hips and pulled my butt up. He held me there with one hand and paused with the end of his penis against the slit in my vagina. He moved the tip in a fraction, then out again. Teasing, taunting me. I reached one hand behind, groped at his leg, urging him forward.
“Oh, Karson! Inside, I want to feel you inside.” My voice came out thick with desire.
“Then your wish, my fine lady, shall be granted.” He plunged in.
With each thrust he’d bring himself to the outside edge and pause, teasing me, before he’d plunge inside again with each sharp thrust. I let out a moan, a hundred of them.
My fingers twisted and curled against the grass and broke off under my clutches.
He reached forward, grabbed my breasts and pulled me up hard against his chest, his penis slipped out as he did.
I tried to turn around, but he held me tight, hard against him as his fingers slipped inside.
Lips, warm and wet, floated down my neck.
Teeth grazed gently against my skin, and once again I found myself wanting to feel a little more.
I wanted to feel his teeth sink into my skin.
I felt him tense, his fingers drummed hard inside of me, it was almost too much, almost .
. . I bit down on my bottom lip so I wouldn’t cry out, blood dribbled into my mouth.
He froze. Stiff as a board, not breathing, not moving.
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, instinctively moving my hand to my mouth.
He cupped my face and pulled my chin toward him. He wasn’t breathing, the hunger in his eyes stole the breath from my lungs.
He took my bottom lip in his mouth and sucked.
He moaned. It was a deep, primitive, animalistic sound which sent my heart thumping against my chest. He pulled back and stared into my eyes. His eyes were dark mountain pools.
His cherry-colored lips were slightly parted, the sharp point of his teeth peeked out from under them.
I placed a hand against his cheek and whispered, “You are so beautiful.”
His brow flickered, as if my words made him a little uncomfortable.
He held my gaze, the weight of the soft glow of his eyes transfixed me.
In that moment I was his to do with whatever he pleased.
He moved his head towards my neck. I threw my head back and waited for the bite.
My body tingled as his tongue roamed the skin and he nibbled from the bottom of my neck up in a slow, purposeful manner.
He paused over the thick, heavy beat of my pulse.
He breathed all of me in. There was something gloriously sadistic about the anticipation.
My whole body trembled in response. My throat and mouth went dry.
I waited for his teeth to sink through skin and dip into the vein.
He planted a firm and decisively dismissive kiss on the side of my neck and pulled away.
Our eyes met in an understanding of unspoken words. He wouldn’t bite me. I didn’t know why. It was confusing to me. He went away to feed—thought nothing of wrapping his lips around another woman’s neck—but my blood he wouldn’t touch.
“Lay back, I want to finish you off,” he said gruffly, lowering me to the ground, his mouth went straight to where we started. “You taste so good when you’re wet,” he murmured.
His tongue circled the sweet spot until I almost reached that place. My body grew taut, the heat rose, my muscles tightened. He moved off and buried his cock deep inside me. I erupted with a cry. He emptied his seed as my muscles clenched around him.
We lay naked on the rug for some time afterwards, our hands tucked behind our heads, embraced by a serene satisfaction, both of us staring at the blue curtain above.
A soft breeze crept over my skin, sending my body into tiny shudders.
“Put your clothes on,” Karson ordered, reaching across handing them to me.
I got up. I could feel his hot gaze on my back. I whipped my t-shirt on, found my underwear, which was damp and not entirely comfortable. He snickered as I hopped sideways and almost fell trying to reef my jean leg over my foot.
“Aren't you getting dressed?” I asked, swinging back to him.
“I will in a minute, I'm just taking in the view.” His lips twitched. I picked up his t-shirt and threw it, it landed on his head. He laughed, glided up to his feet. I soaked in his beauty. His strong, broad chest glistened in the sun, his stomach muscles peaked like hard, frozen waves, his manhood, even when soft, was delightfully impressive. He was magnificent. I almost wished he wouldn’t get dressed, but he did.
We sat, glasses in hand, sipping at the champagne.
A wash of pleasant light-headedness swooped over me, the muscles in my shoulders relaxed.
I took a bite of strawberry, the sweet juice rolled down over my lips, and I wiped it away with the back of my hand.
I watched, mesmerized, as the butterflies glided silently from flower to flower.
One dropped by the blanket. I held out my hand.
“It would be nice to be a butterfly,” I said as it crawled over my hand, its feet tickling my skin.
I studied the intricate detail in its wings.
Karson pulled a face. “Butterflies spend most of their lives as a caterpillar, hardly going anywhere. Then, if they’re lucky, and they don’t become a bird’s dinner, they get stuck in a tomb of their own making, where they then struggle to fight their way out; and after all that, if they make it out, they only live for three days. ”
“Maybe a bird then,” I conceded, “flying without a care in the world from one beautiful place to the next, some of us live a lifetime without such freedom,” I said, as the butterfly flapped its wings and glided away.
He looked at me thoughtfully. “But if you were a bird, you would be the most beautiful bird.” He trailed his finger along my jaw line. “And a human would catch you and lock you in a cage, and you’d spend your whole life in a prison staring at the same spot until you died of boredom.”