“Hey.” I let my hands roam up her torso to cup her br**sts, and then up farther to brush her cheeks. “It’s okay. We can stop, if you—”
She shakes her head. “No! No. I’ve just…I’m just nervous.”
“Me, too,” I tell her.
She opens her eyes. Looks at me, swallows. “Take them off.”
I pull back and tug the black fabric past her knees, past her feet, and toss them aside. She blinks twice, hard, takes a deep breath, and forces her legs to relax. “You’re beautiful everywhere, Kylie.”
I put my hands on her thighs, just above her knees. Slide my palms forward, over the smooth curves of her thighs, nearing the apex, where she’s as lovely and perfect as everywhere else. Pale skin, taut and tight, plump lips damp with the moisture of desire, slight haze of curls, the same color as the hair on her head. She’s watching me, her hands curled into fists by her hips, clutching the sheet. I caress her thighs again, and then let my touch roam over her navel, down, down. She tenses, but her thighs remain apart, granting me access, letting me look and letting me touch. She wants this, I can see it in her eyes, but she’s nervous. I let my middle finger slide down her cleft, and she inhales sharply.
“Oh, god, Oz. Do that again.” Her eyelids flutter, lock on me. “Touch me again.”
I drag my middle finger down her crease again, feeling the slick wet essence coat my finger. I lie down beside her, on her left, so she’s between me and the wall. She’s gazing at me, reaches for my face and meets me for a kiss. As our tongues flick and slide, I dip my finger into her, eat her gasp of surprise and pleasure. My c**k is brushing her hip, and she reaches between us, takes me in her hand, caresses me, and now it’s my turn to sigh and groan as her palm rolls over the tip, making me judder and push into her touch. I wet my finger in her juices and then slide the tip of my middle finger up to her clit and stroke around it, over it. She writhes as I do this, gasps into my mouth, and her grip on my c**k tightens. I groan, and she loosens her fist. A circle, slow and deliberate, and then I slide my finger into her channel and explore her inner walls, bring my touch back to her clit, and circle again. This time, her hips lift in rhythm with the circular slide of my finger. Again, a little faster, and again, and now her mouth falls open away from mine and she’s moaning, lifting and writhing.
“Oz…Oz…god, that feels so good. It feels like…like I’m gonna—oh, shit, yes, just like that—like I could just go crazy. Blow up. Come apart.” She’s mumbling, rambling, and it’s so hot.
“Keep talking, Kylie. Tell me what you want. Tell me what you like.”
She runs a hand up her ribs and clutches her breast, fingers clawed into the supple flesh. “Kiss me here again.”
I lean over her and flick her nipple with my tongue, then gently saw my teeth across it. She gasps, arches, and I suckle her into my mouth. My finger is moving inside her, dipping and circling, keeping her hips writhing, slowing and speeding, and she’s gasping, groaning. But she’s not going over the edge, and there’s one more thing I want her to feel, one more way to make her go crazy and lose all control.
I kiss her ribs, her side, her hip, beneath her navel.
“Oz? What—what are you doing?” She sounds almost panicked.
“Remember when I said I’d kiss you everywhere?”
“Yeah?” she breathes.
“Everywhere.” I kiss the inside of her thigh, breathe out on her pale flesh, and then kiss the hot wet flesh of her cleft, and she whimpers.
“God, Oz. There? Oh, god.” Her hands curl into my hair, and I know she’s completely and totally sold to this, eager for everything and anything when she brushes my hair out of my face and holds it out of the way.
I lick between her lips, tasting her essence, and then lick again, stiffening my tongue to slide in, a slow penetration. Kylie groans, a low, protracted sound, and her fists tighten in my hair. I lick up her opening again and again, and each time she gasps or groans or whimpers. Then, with just the very tip of my tongue, I swirl around her clit, and she shudders violently. So close, so close. I reach up with one hand and explore her breast, find her nipple and roll it between my fingers, and now she’s shaking all over, her stomach tensed and her breathing ragged.
“I can’t—I can’t take it, Oz, it’s too much! I feel like I’m going to explode. Fuck, Oz! Don’t stop. Please…”
I glance up, and she’s got one hand in her own hair, pulling as she arches, and the other is cupping the back of my head, keeping me buried between her legs, as if I’d ever stop. I lick and circle, pinch and twist, and she’s bucking into me, moaning, and I feel her entire body shuddering, and yes, now, now, I feel her entire body lift off the bed and she’s shrieking loud through gritted teeth. Jesus f**k, she’s sexy when she comes. She lights up. Glows. And god, does she taste good. She shivers and judders with every swipe of my tongue, and finally she pushes me away, pulls me up, and I lie beside her, watching her tremble, her hair mussed and tangled across her face.
I brush a lock aside and smile down at her. “Hi.”
She blinks up at me, and her mouth falls open, her eyes searching me. “What—what did you just do to me? And can you do it every single moment of every day for the rest of my life?”
I feel intensely, powerfully, all-consumingly proud of how thoroughly flushed and limp and shocked she is. I’m possessive, needy. I’m in so deep now. So far gone. “I made you come, sweetness. And yes, I sure can.”
I’m surprised at my own words. Stunned might be more accurate. Did I really just say I’d spend every moment of our lives making her come? ’Cause that implies a lifetime spent together. There’s a whole hell of a lot subtly implied in that promise.
Her hooded eyes rove from my face, down to my chest, and farther down to my painfully rigid cock. “I want to make you feel that way.” She rolls toward me, her hair falling around her face, and pushes on my shoulder. “I swear I saw the stars, Oz. It felt like you broke open my soul and let heaven into my body.”
“You should put that in a song,” I say.
“I will.” She kisses my shoulder, presses her body flush against the length of mine, sends her palm skating down my chest to my stomach, slides her hand flat against my skin beneath my cock. “Later.”
She wraps her hand around my erection, and lazily slides her fist up my length, twists at the tip, and plunges back down. I hiss through my teeth, watching her hand on me. We’re both watching her touch me, and the expression on her face is one of excited disbelief, like she can’t believe she’s really here, really doing this, with me. I know the feeling. I’m kind of lost in the wonder of it all, too. But then all that fades away as her slowly, gently sliding hand on my c**k brings me to groaning, arching splendor. Nothing has ever felt so good as this. Just her hand, her fingers and her palm, rising and falling, twisting and sliding and gripping, her soft skin on mine, her lips touching my shoulder and smiling a tiny, private smile as I start to buck up into her touch.