“Suck my ni**les like they’re Skittles,” he said.
“You remembered.”
I had difficulty forming suction between his flesh and my mouth, because I couldn’t stop laughing over the Skittles comment.
Finally I latched on like a clever baby, and he groaned with pleasure as his manly nip hardened in my mouth. I was on my knees at the side of his torso, folded down with my butt on my heels. I walked my free hand down his bare torso and on to his belt. My fingers traipsed down over the buckle and across the denim plains, stopping over a swelling feature. I gave his hardening mountain a squeeze.
With his eyes closed, he whispered, “You do everything just right, don’t you?”
I let go of his nipple and licked the cut line between his pectoral muscles. Salty. I licked my lips, then went in for more, licking all the way up his neck and over his Adam’s apple.
“Perfect,” he whispered.
Carefully, I looked down at my body and raised one leg so I could straddle him. With my knee down on the other side, his body felt solid and good between my legs. I leaned in again and kissed the side of his neck, where it was smooth shaven but the stubble could be felt just under the surface using my tongue. His pulse ebbed under my lips, and I found myself sucking hungrily on his flesh.
He groaned. “You’re going to give me a hicky.”
“No, don’t be silly.” I flicked my tongue against his pulse point and went in for another bite and suck. His neck was yummy.
As I enjoyed his neck, he raised his h*ps beneath me, grinding against my growing-damp panties.
I moved from his neck to his lips, kissing him eagerly, as he matched my every greedy move. Our bodies moved, and we were grinding together like teenagers, him rock-hard and still in his jeans and me in my underwear and dress.
He grabbed hold of my dress and pulled it up over my head, then tossed it aside without pause or ceremony.
In my underwear only now, I pressed my palms into his chest and arched my body, throwing my head back and exposing my neck.
He curled up, his abdominal muscles rippling, and kissed my neck as he pulled me back down with him. I felt his tongue, his lips, and even the bright pain of sharp teeth, the pleasure like the setting sun flashing through trees while you’re driving fast on the highway.
With one hand, I blindly reached for the drawer next to the bed and grabbed one of the packets.
He clutched my h*ps and pulled me up long enough to unfasten his belt and wriggle his jeans and boxers down.
I eased back down, his bare c**k hot against my inner thigh, now slick with perspiration. We slipped back and forth, rocking with him nestled in my hipbone, and my nub grinding down against his pubic bone.
“C’mere,” he said, calling me to his lips with a tilt of the chin.
I cinched up and kissed him, leaning forward enough for his fingers to get to me, pressing at first and then pulling the thin cotton thong I was wearing to the side. His fingers stroked my wetness, making me quiver again. He thrust his tongue inside my mouth, and I could barely think, barely breathe, barely do anything but exist with his beautiful body under mine.
Something round nudged against my pu**y, and I ground down eagerly. He felt so good sliding inside me, that first smooth stroke.
It only lasted an instant, though, because my eyes flew open. Eyes open! Eyes open, Petra!
Panting, I looked down between my legs, relieved to see that the condom was already in place. With a contented sigh, I slipped back down again, engulfing him hungrily.
“Yes,” he said, raising his h*ps as I lowered mine, filling me with his length, his width, his desire.
With my palms on his chest, I adjusted my body position, distributing my weight on my knees so I could move freely.
“Yes,” he repeated, his eyes closed.
I was on top.
My body took over, moving with its own mind. My gaze roved over the beautiful body beneath me, and mine, catching sight of the tops of my br**sts, milky white in the morning light next to Dalton’s tanned body. If I didn’t have my pretty bra on, holding the girls at attention, there was no way I would have moved as freely as this.
I didn’t have time to think about that, though. Or anything. My orgasm was coming, and it was my master. I rocked my h*ps obediently, my insides gripping tightly.
“Call me Braveheart,” Dalton urged.
“You mean Lionheart. So help me, do not make me think about Mel Gibson when I’m in this state,” I breathed.
“I am your pony. I am Lionheart. Ride me hard.”
I whispered, “Lionheart.”
A feeling zapped through me, like I was doing something very naughty.
“Lionheart,” I growled, letting myself land a little harder.
“You’re so beautiful right now. You’re my princess. You’re my girl, now ride me. Ride me all the way home.”
I growled again.
“Call my name,” he said.
His chest glistened with sweat, and I could feel his pulse against mine, his skin sticking then sliding against mine.
My ass started to slap against his skin on each down-thrust, a naughty, spanking sound.
My toes curled and my heart jumped up as I started to cl**ax. “Lionheart,” I said.
“Yes.”
“Lionheart!” I dug my fingertips into his chest.
“Yes!” He was already coming himself, his c**k shaking and pulsating inside me.
“Oh, Lionheart!”
I fell apart, my orgasm blossoming everywhere at once, from my bones to my skin, especially my skin.
My hands slipped on his chest, sliding off the sides and to the bed below as my arms weakened and collapsed with sweet relief.
He thrust once more, his body strong and compact beneath me. Dalton Deangelo was no pony; he was a stallion.
I whimpered as a second, smaller detonation leveled me completely. My head found a resting spot on his shoulder, my lips nearly touching his neck.
We both stopped moving, and I stared at his ear with newfound curiosity.
He had the handsomest ears. The way the cartilage curled around, it was like that Golden Mean perfect swirl thing you can find in all the most famous works of art.
My bra was soaked through, and our chests were stuck together as readily as two sides of a licked envelope. I didn’t dare move and feel the grossness. Normally, I wouldn’t have rested my body weight on top of a guy, but this time, it was the furthest thing from my mind. I just stared at the swirling contours of his ear, my mind blank.
His chest rose with a deeper breath, and then rumbled with the tremor of his voice as he said, “What are you thinking about?”