9. Keith #4
And I wasn’t even going to front, that made me feel incredibly masculine, and the fire simmering within me erupted into an all-out inferno.
So, I knelt in front of her, no words exchanged as I gently wrapped my hand around her ankle. I gripped it for a moment, squeezing gently, then raised my face to meet her gaze, eyebrow raised.
Olivia apparently didn’t need to speak either, because she just nodded, and entire novels were exchanged between us in that breath.
Time to write the climax.
If it were any other situation, I would have shared the play on words with her, but I had something much more important in mind for my tongue.
Attention back on her ankles, I undid the straps of her heels, slowly sliding them off her feet before setting them carefully to the side. While I wasn’t exactly knowledgeable about fashion, I figured I should be careful with the things she bought to impress me.
I squeezed her stockinged foot slightly, running my thumb firmly along the arch. The way she sighed and leaned back on her elbows stunned me. I stroked up her calves. Slow, steady, enjoying the muscle there and rubbing when I felt a knot.
“That feels so good.”
I didn’t gloat, but the way my ego swelled might have been akin to gloating. I worked my way up her legs, to her thighs, which were too broad for my palms to encompass.
“Fucking beautiful,” I breathed, mostly to myself, but clearly not quietly enough because Olivia flushed bright red. Scrumptious.
“You don’t mean that.”
Now that was a notion that I couldn’t abide. I continued sliding my hands up, bunching her skirt until it was around her hips and waist. Her stockings were thigh-high, clipped to a lacy garter belt that matched her equally lacy, sheer panties.
A present, and all for me.
“I do,” I practically growled, dipping my head to kiss at the swell of her thigh right above her stocking. God, that little extra softness right above the hosiery was so attractive that I felt like I was going to spin out.
I always had an intensity about me, and usually I poured it all into woodworking. Now, however, there wasn’t a lick of wood around besides my own, so that intensity had nowhere to go but Olivia.
I kissed my way up that perfect thigh of hers until my lips ghosted over the delicate fabric of her panties. I didn’t apply pressure, didn’t linger there, even though I wanted to. Even though her scent called to me like fucking ambrosia.
I reveled in the little gasp she let out at my breath against her, and the adorable little whimper that came after it when I moved right along. The things she was doing for my ego...
Enthralled, I worked my way down her opposite thigh, until my teeth were at the buckle of her other garter.
As tempting as it was to pop it off like this was some romance movie and I was a debonair spy who knew all about women’s lingerie, the practical part of me was aware I would ruin it rather than be sexy about it.
Besides, the one thing I did know was that underwear went over garters, not under them, so I would have no problem getting them off.
But for now, they could stay on, because I made my way back to her core and kissed her through the lace. Gentle at first, barely there, my palms resting on her thick thighs so I could feel the muscles jump.
I applied pressure as I learned her, observing every single reaction she had and writing it into my DNA so it would always be a part of me.
Every whine, every shift of her hips, every part of her that tensed and relaxed was either compliment, instruction, or both, and I was most definitely a grade-A student.
It wasn’t long before Olivia was near trembling, her thighs trying not to clamp down around my head. That was my sign that it was time to escalate.
I watched her face as my hands left their position and went to that damp little piece of clothing. Such a small, flimsy thing, and yet it guarded something so sacred.
I was practically inebriated, drunk off the succor of her altar, devoured by her scent and taste instead of the other way around.
“Keith…” she whispered when I hooked my fingers into the waistband sitting against her soft, olive-toned tummy. I’d always thought I had a rather unsexy name, but hearing it tumble from her lips made me feel entirely different about it.
“Do you want me to stop?” I asked, because I wanted Olivia to know that not only was her comfort a priority, but it was my prime directive.
“N-no.”
I didn’t need any more encouragement to eat my way to Olivia’s heart, but it was an incredible bonus to see such a capable, confident woman crumbling to pieces from the stroke of my tongue. And I wasn’t about to let her down.
But I also wasn’t about to rush things.
“Do you want to pause for a minute? Catch your breath?”
Another fervent shake of her head. I squeezed her thighs gently until she used her words. “No!” she declared adamantly before blushing brightly at the sudden uptick in her volume. “No…” she repeated in a softer tone.
“Don’t worry about being loud,” I assured as I dipped my head down. “If I do this right, you’ll be screaming soon enough.”
And that was a promise I fully intended to keep.