19 #2
“Like what?” She was perturbed.
“You’re going to take charge and tell me what to do?”
“I…” She licked her lips. “No. I don’t—”
“I mean, I think I would quite like that,” he cut in, reassuring, and he loped over to the bed and hurled himself down on top of it. He propped himself up on one arm and gazed at her, smiling.
She yanked her tunic over her head.
All right, then. This was… He let out a huff of air. He was suddenly very, very hard.
She gave him a look, sort of a challenge, as she reached to untuck the long strip of fabric that she wound around her body to bind her breasts.
He remembered that little reverie of his, saying she needed assistance. He would not dare to even suggest she needed assistance at this point. He swallowed as she began to slowly unwind it from the top.
She revealed herself to him an inch at a time, and he sat up straight on the bed, gazing intently at her as she peeled the band away until she had bared herself to him.
Her breasts were positively stunning.
He swallowed again, looking at them, looking at how they were so round and so heavy and yet sat so high and regal on her chest. They softened her in some way, but then they were… they were breasts that commanded respect. He wanted to worship them, he thought. His mouth was dry.
“Everything you were hoping for?” she said archly.
“Oh, by the dawn, much more lovely than I could have dreamed,” he breathed.
She tried to laugh, but it seemed to get caught in her throat.
He met her gaze. “Are you all right? We don’t have to do this.”
“Yes, we do,” she said, and marched right over to him, putting her breasts right in his face where he was sitting on the bed.
He let out a moan, because he was now incapable of making rational decisions, he thought. He was lost. He gasped at her, raising his hand. “May I?”
“No, I’ve bared them to you because I don’t wish you to touch them.” She was sarcastic, but her voice was hushed.
He cupped her, gently with one hand. Her skin was soft and warm. He brought up his other hand to touch the other one, but he went directly for her dark green nipple, brushing it with his forefinger.
She hissed, and her nipple tightened prettily, and his groin tightened in response. He liked affecting her.
“I want… my mouth…”
“Yes, please,” she whispered.
So, he latched on to that little tight nipple, lathed it with his tongue and he toyed with her other breast as he did so, and she sighed and sank a hand into his hair.
He suckled the other one, too.
He settled back to gape at them. He weighed both of them in his hands. He pressed them together. He squeezed them. He toyed with her nipples. He gently pinched them. He ran little circles around them with his tongue.
All of that went on a while, as he cycled through all of these things again and again.
He began to think that he would never tire of this, that he could be perfectly happy doing this for the rest of his life.
He looked up at her from time to time to make sure she was all right, and she always had her eyes closed, a little smile on her face, and she was sighing prettily as he continued at her.
She touched his face, tracing his features, and he liked that, liked her touching his jaw while he had his mouth latched to her, liked her thumb against his eyebrow while he was kissing the valley between them.
At some point, he shed his shirt, too, but sort of absently, and then after that, she was touching his bare shoulders sometimes, too.
He said things, told her she had the most perfect bosom he’d ever seen, told her that loved the way she tasted, told her that he could be perfectly happy doing this for the rest of his life.
Then, at some point, she bent down and kissed him.
He got off the bed and pulled her up against him. He was just a tiny bit taller than her, and it made kissing nice, because their mouths were perfectly lined up. He liked the press of her breasts against his chest. He liked having his arms around her.
By the dawn, her waist was rather small. She had impressive shoulders and then this entirely wondrous set of breasts, but she was… his hands spanned her waist, and there was a daintiness to her. He sighed into her mouth.
She made an answering noise.
He broke the kiss so that he could go back to admiring her bosom. To looking at it. He thumbed her nipples. “These were getting a little bit relaxed,” he murmured. “We can’t have that. I like them nice and taut and suckable.” And then he bent down to take her into his mouth again.
She threw back her head and moaned.
He sat down on the bed again, and he pulled her down with him.
She straddled him, and that was perfect, because they were just there for him, and he could keep at them. The more he toyed with them, the more sensitive they seemed to be. She wasn’t simply sighing anymore. She was letting out long, low noises that seemed to come from the depths of her.
She shifted on him, settling her pelvis against his thigh, and now she started to rock into him there, just gently, rocking against him as he continued to toy with her tight, hard nipples, as he rolled one in his mouth and rolled another between his thumb and forefingers.
Her groans were guttural. She had her head thrown back, her breasts thrust in his face, her pelvis rocking into him, and she was unleashed, and he thought again that he wanted to worship her, that she looked like some kind of wild, wanton goddess.
He kissed the hollow of her throat and then went back to her breasts.
She let out a strangled sort of noise, and then her eyes popped open and she looked stunned. She pressed her pelvis right into his leg, and he could feel that she was…
His eyes opened wide and he met her gaze. “Warrioress, are you…?”
The laugh she made was really a giggle. She was embarrassed. Her forehead came down to rest on his shoulder. She was out of breath. “Well, I didn’t know I could do it like that.”
“Do what?” he said. “Come?”
Her laughter was wild and untethered. “It was… my nipples, the way you kept… I got so worked up.”
“Good,” he said, pleased, because even though she had essentially done that to herself, he liked to think he’d had something to do with it.
But maybe… maybe it was that way, the way she’d said before, that men needed women and women did not need men.
He stroked her braid. “Very good. That’s exactly right, warrioress. ”
She kissed him.
He shut his eyes and kissed back.
She let out another laugh and tossed herself onto her back on the bed. She gazed at the ceiling. “Well, we’ve done nothing for you, have we?”
“I’m enjoying myself,” he said, smiling down at her, liking the way her breasts looked when she was lying on her back. “Very much enjoying myself.”
“I want to see it,” she said.
“You mean my cock.”
She nodded, smiling widely. “You want to show it to me, and don’t deny it.”
“Oh, well, I suppose I do,” he said, smirking.
“You probably stroke it and imagine showing it to me. You probably imagine it all sorts of ways. Ways where I’m begging to see it and ways where I’m begging not to look at it, and in your little imaginings, you show it to me whether I want to see it or not.”