“What is it?” she managed to ask, though it was an effort to be coherent.
“Breathing.”
She couldn’t help herself, she had to laugh, and he punished her with a bite on the inside of her thigh that had the effect of stealing her breath and making her legs part even more. She knew what he was going to do, she’d been dying of anticipation as he worked his way down, but still, the first lick of his tongue shot sensation though her like electricity. She cried out, digging her heels into the mattress and arching her back off the bed. He captured her and dragged her closer for a deeper taste, a deeper probing with both tongue and fingers. The sense of penetration was acute, shivering through all her nerve endings like tiny shock waves that intensified with every slow in-and-out motion.
Oh, he was good. Even when she was ready for him, when she could feel the wetness between her legs, he seemed content to linger with kisses and caresses until she was writhing on the bed and all but begging him to stop, or not stop, it all seemed the same. Finally she grabbed his ears and rasped, “I’m ready,” just in case he was in any doubt
He lowered his head and kissed her palm. “Are you certain?”
Infuriated, she sat up in bed. “Either do it now, or don’t do it at all! You’re driving me insane!”
He laughed and tumbled her back on the bed. Before she could recover her equilibrium, he was on her, pushing into her with a slow, inexorable pressure that made her breath hiss out of her lungs as he filled her. She held herself very still, her eyes closed as she tried to absorb all the sensations, the pressure and heat and heaviness.
He began a subtle back-and-forth motion, rocking inside her. Instinctively she tensed, tightening her inner muscles in an effort to contain him and control the act. He groaned, froze, then rasped out, “Do that again.” This time it was he who held himself still while she loved him with that internal clasping. The act of tightening on him then consciously relaxing, then tightening again, brought her almost to the edge of climax-but not close enough.
He hooked his arms under her legs and held them high, taking total control. She couldn’t limit the depth of his penetration in this position, couldn’t lift herself to meet his thrusts, couldn’t do anything except feel the long, slow strokes as he settled into a steady rhythm. He held himself positioned just high enough, in the perfect position for her to feel the maximum friction, yet the minutes passed and orgasm remained maddeningly just out of reach. Lily felt as if she were being pulled apart, the tension gripping her was so intense. His arms began trembling, his entire body was trembling, and she almost burst into tears as she realized he wouldn’t be able to last much longer and she still hadn’t been able to climax.
“I want to do it from behind you,” he murmured, and pulled out. Before she could change positions, he lay down beside her and pulled her on top of him, on her back, with her head tilted back over his left shoulder. His hot breath teased her ear, and his hands stroked over her breasts, down her belly. He spread her legs, arranging them on either side of his, and reaching down, he held his penis in position while he pushed upward. She groaned as the thick length squeezed into her, shimmying in a paroxysm that carried her close to completion but stopped short yet again. She felt terribly exposed without him covering her. Cool air washed all down her heated body, her legs were spread wide, and with her head tilted backward, she was strangely disoriented, off balance.
“Shhh, I have you,” he said in a reassuring rumble, and she realized she must have made a panicked sound. His hips flexed and rolled beneath her, working himself back and forth inside her. There was more of a tug in this position, a sharper sense of movement. He slid his right hand down her belly and curved his fingers down, between her legs, catching her clitoris in the fork of his first two fingers. He gently closed his fingers together, just enough, and held her as his strokes moved her up and down, back and forth, and the hot coil of sensation tightened inside her to an unbearable degree.
She made a strangled sound and dug her heels into the mattress, shuddering, tilting her hips down to take every inch of him she could, then surging upward against those maddening fingers. She was shaking from head to toe, her thighs quivering, her breath nothing more than sobs that caught in her throat. Closer, closer…
A low cry tore from her throat as she was abruptly hurled past the point of no return. Great pulsing waves radiated from her loins, ripping away her last vestiges of control. Finally, finally-she was there and it was happening, more powerful than she remembered, blinding her to everything except the pleasure that held her racked and pierced.
Vaguely she realized she was crying, though she didn’t know why. She was still shaking, so wrung out and limp she couldn’t even lift an arm. She didn’t have to. Swain slid out of and from under her, rolling on top of her and roughly pushing inside. His thrusts were hard and fast, taking him to the hilt each time. Sweat dampened his skin and he was shaking now, the way she had shaken, every muscle trembling as he drove deep and reached for his own pleasure. His rhythm frayed, disintegrated, and a long, deep groan rumbled in his chest, his throat, and with a harsh cry he arched back, pulsing inside her as he gripped her hips so hard his fingers left their marks on her skin. Then slowly he folded forward, still shuddering, jerking, his eyes closed as his trembling arms let his weight down on her.
His lungs were pumping like bellows, huge breaths going in and out. Lily still struggled for her own breath, trying to regain some use of her limbs, while her heart pounded so hard and fast she thought she might faint. She could feel her pulse even in her fingertips.