Rule #25 Death by oral sex is a lovely way to go.
Amelia
With Matis’s flavor still on my tongue, I climb up onto the bed and straddle his depleted body. His arms are lying outstretched at his sides and his eyes are closed. A grin pulls across my face as I lean over and kiss him softly on the lips.
He is perfect, in every way.
That blow job was perfect.
It’s times like these when I have to remind myself that Matis is almost three decades older than me.
He doesn’t look or act like a fifty-three-year-old man.
Other than the softly weathered creases around his mouth and eyes and the strands of gray shining against his dark hair, he doesn’t seem any older than me at all.
Especially when I can have him moaning and panting like putty in my hands just from my mouth on his cock. He is just a man, so really…who cares about ages?
I love him and he loves me.
“Are you dead?” I whisper with a giggle as I kiss my way up his chest to his neck. His pulse throbs against my lips, and the rich scent of his cologne makes my core moisten.
“What a way to go,” he replies with a smile.
“Death by blow job.”
He laughs harder as his arms wrap around me, holding me tight. When I lift up, our eyes meet, and there’s not so much stress and tension. It’s easy and comfortable.
Bringing my face toward his, he kisses me softly, and my belly lights up with a needy heat. I’m wearing only a large T-shirt and a pair of panties, so my bare legs are tight against his sides.
His cock hasn’t deflated at all since he came, and I feel it prodding my core.
The sensation reminds me of his rule—no sex.
A stupid rule if you ask me. What’s the difference between blow jobs and sex really?
Just so if anyone asks if we had sex, he can say no, like it doesn’t matter that I’ve swallowed a mouthful of his cum.
And now the idea that Matis and I have all night together and no boundaries between us anymore (except for the sex rule) makes me giddy with anticipation. I just want him. All of him and as much as I can get.
Our kiss grows heated as his tongue tangles with mine. I moan into his mouth as his hands travel up from my ass and into my hair and right back down again. When he tugs on my shirt, I sit upright and pull it over my head. My breasts are exposed, the buds of my nipples tight with arousal.
Once I’m naked from the waist up, Matis lets his gaze wash over me, hungrily devouring the sight. His fingers skate over my flesh delicately.
“You are so beautiful,” he whispers, and the praise flutters in my belly.
“Thank you.”
Judging by the way his hands hesitate around my sides and ass, I can tell that he’s still scared to really touch me. Softly, I rest my fingers over his and guide them to my breasts.
“Touch me, Matis.”
He shudders on an exhale, clearly still trying to hold back from what he wants. Last night, he touched far more than my breasts, but that ended with the self-induced guilt trip of the century.
As his hands close around my breasts, he grinds his hips upward, seeking friction with his cock. I grind downward against him, running my core along his hard shaft.
The intensity between our gazes burns as our bodies writhe together. I will never tire of this, never. His body is perfect. His strong, muscular shoulders and toned frame are the definition of sexy to me. I have never found young guys with muscles on muscles to be attractive.
But this…Matis’s mature aesthetic and classy style are what turns me on. They always have. He doesn’t hit the gym to overinflate his ego. Instead, he puts on a nice suit and a charming smile, and he focuses on the pleasure of his partner, and honestly…what could big muscles have on that?
No comparison.
My nails dig into his chest as my hips continue their grinding. His length is so solid against my clit it almost hurts, but I don’t quit my movement. Judging by the pleasure in his blown-out pupils and parted lips, he likes it too.
He’s grown comfortable with touching me now. His hands dance around my body, gripping my breasts and tweaking my nipples. Then he squeezes my hips and pinches my ass, guiding my motion and dragging me down harder.
I whimper when the sensation grows.
“That’s it, Trouble. Grind on my cock. It’s yours.”
My hips move faster, chasing, chasing, chasing. Though I’m not ready to come. I don’t want this to be over. I need more.
His hands are greedy now, taking their fill of my body. Delighting in every inch.
When he squeezes the bud of my nipple between his fingers, an electric shock of pleasure courses down to my core and I cry out, moving my hips faster.
“Take these off,” he growls, tugging on my cotton underwear.
I climb off him quickly and awkwardly shed the garment before climbing back on top to grind on his cock some more. But he has other ideas.
“On my face, Trouble. I need to taste you.”
The command elicits another whimper from deep in my throat. Quickly, I climb up his body, and he shimmies down on the bed until I’m hovering over his waiting mouth.
With a hungry sound, he sticks his tongue out and draws the coarse, wet surface over my clit, and my hips buck from the sensation. So he does it again and again, moaning as he devours me, lapping up every ounce of my arousal like he’s dying of starvation.
Then, with a growl of frustration, he wraps his arms around my thighs and tugs me down. “Sit, Trouble,” he barks.
My cunt lands against his lips and I fall forward, catching myself on the bed as his teeth nip at my folds and his lips tighten around my clit.
My spine rounds and my hips jerk as I follow this path toward ecstasy that he’s laid out for me. He’s taking me there whether I want to go or not. I haven’t taken a breath in what seems like minutes, but all I can manage are hoarse grunts and mewling cries.
The last time a guy ate me out, he treated my pussy like a dirty lollipop he was scared to taste. It was all tiny licks and useless flicks of his tongue.
Matis is face-deep in my heat like he’s ready to die to make me come.
“This is the prettiest pussy I’ve ever tasted,” he growls as he uses his fingers to pull me apart and lick me deeper.
“That feels so good,” I squeal. A bead of sweat courses down my spine as my hips continue their back-and-forth canting. My clit is red and throbbing and so sensitive from the angry brush of his facial hair that I feel every little breath of air from his nose and touch of his lips.
When I look down, our eyes meet. A hint of a smile tugs on the corner of my lips as I dig my hand in his hair and pull, grinding myself on his face.
If he thinks we’ll actually be able to resist sex, he’s out of his mind. We are nothing but animals. Wild, feral, untamed animals. Animals have needs.
And right now, my need is to ride his face and come all over his tongue.
When he closes his lips around my clit, he sucks so hard I nearly levitate off the bed. “Oh God, Matis.”
My legs begin to straighten, but he holds me down tightly with his forearms around my thighs. His mouth is an assault, and I might not survive this.
“Yes, yes, yes,” I cry. “Fuck, I’m gonna…come.”
I let out a guttural sound as the impact of the orgasm hits my body. The tremor begins at the base of my spine and travels all the way up until I’m convulsing and useless against it.
Heat blossoms like an explosion in my core, traveling outward until I’m swept away by pleasure. The sounds that escape my lips certainly are not human, and my bangs stick to my forehead in a sweat-soaked mess.
I come for what feels like days. Matis does not relent, growling and groaning between my thighs, savoring the feast.
When the assault of my climax finally subsides, I slump over him with useless muscles and not a single bone in my body. I crash onto the pillow and try to regulate my breathing to be less panting and dying.
Eventually he crawls over me, nestled between my legs as he drapes himself on top of me and kisses my blush-red cheeks.
“Did you die?” he whispers, and I smile with my eyes closed.
“Yes.” When I open them, he’s there, staring down at me with those warm steely eyes that look like home. “But what a way to go.”
When I come out of the bathroom, I find Matis sitting up in my bed.
The sight makes me pause, and I can do nothing but stand in place and stare at him.
He’s put on his underwear, which is disappointing, but that’s all he has on.
His bare chest in the dim light of my room is so sexy, I prefer it over every expensive suit or tight shirt.
He shoots me a sultry smirk as he waits for me to cross the space toward the bed. We joked earlier, but he might actually be the death of me.
I have on the same large T-shirt from earlier as I crawl in next to him. This is dangerous, this sudden comfort we have with each other. How am I supposed to get into bed every night from now on without him in it waiting for me?
The beauty of being with Matis now is that I’ve had my entire life to get to know him. I’m not trying to learn his personality and his quirks while also letting him see mine. We know everything about each other. I have stared into his eyes a thousand times already.
Once I’m under the covers next to him, he settles deeper into the pillows and pulls me onto his chest. This is probably when a normal couple would talk about their families or biggest dreams and aspirations, but we don’t need to do that.
So instead, we lie in silence. His hand strokes my back softly, and I breathe in the familiar scent of his skin and rich cologne.
“If you had told me a month ago that we’d be lying here like this, I would have told you that you were out of your mind,” he says with his lips against my head.
I chuckle, squeezing him tighter. Matis has no idea how long I’ve wanted this, and I am not about to divulge that information. I don’t want him seeing me as some lovestruck girl. This means so much more to me than that.
“When did things change for you?” I ask cautiously, slightly worried about what the answer might be.
“I don’t know,” he mumbles. “The night you watched me in the voyeur room, maybe.”
“I still can’t believe you said my name,” I reply with a laugh.
“That makes two of us.”
For a while, we’re quiet and I’m grateful he doesn’t return the question to me. I can’t bring myself to lie to him, but I also can’t admit that I’ve been dreaming about this since I was…well, too young to be thinking about this.
“What am I going to do with you, Trouble?” he murmurs.
I pull back and look up into his eyes. “I have some ideas.”
He grins down at me, and I scoot in closer to press my lips against his. It’s still unbelievable to me that I can do this. That he’s here. That he’s mine. Even for a moment.
If this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up. I have someone who makes me better, who knows me, who gets me. The soft stroke of his fingers on my back and his heartbeat in my ear eventually lull me to sleep.