Page 148 of In Somnis

I let my palm slide over the lace underneath, up and down, and groan at the heat of her, at how warm she is, how the air has gone sweet and sour with lemon and something underneath it that is entirely her.

I bring my ring and middle finger to her lips. “Make them sopping wet for me, darling.”

Her eyes flutter. Then her lips part, and she takes my fingers into her mouth and sucks, her tongue moving slowly, and I watch her do it and think about her doing this somewhere else. The thought nearly whites me out entirely.

I am a professional. I am a composed, disciplined, celibate professional.

Pulling my fingers free, I kiss her again to keep her from thinking and let my hand slide back down. I push the lace aside, and at first, I cup her, feeling the soft, plush weight of her there, the warmth of her, how she’s so perfectly full against my palm.

God.

I’ve thought about her thighs, about the soft curve of her waist, about every generous, warm inch of her, but her cunt is fucking perfect.

I dive into her slit and circle her clit with two slick fingers. Lennon gasps into my mouth, then breaks the kiss to breathe. Her forehead drops to mine, then lower, falling against my shoulder, and I keep circling, steady and unhurried, while she falls apart inch by inch.

“Paul, please⁠—”

“Please what, darling?”

Her only reply is a whimper. No words.

I keep my pace, my focus solely on her and definitely not the ache building in my cock. “Let me hear you.”

The moan she gives me is loud, helpless, and completely unguarded, and I feel my cock actually leak in response, which has never happened to me before in my adult life.

“You’re making it so hard for me to hold back.” My voice is barely recognizable as mine. “So-fucking-sexy. The sounds you make. Your hips.” I watch her grind against my hand, and something primal and inarticulate takes over my entire nervous system. “God, Lennon. All I want right now is to pull down my jeans and impale you on my cock.”

“Please.” A whimper against my neck. “Please, please, please…”

I shift my thumb to her clit, keeping the circles, while my fingers drift lower, and I feel it. She’s wet. Not much, but she’s there, she’s getting there, and I feel accomplished in a way that bypasses every rational thought I have, some deep animal satisfaction at the proof of it.

“I want to fill you up,” I tell her while my fingers find her entrance. “I want to slide into you so slowly. Feel you open up around me.” I press in one finger, careful, God, she’s tight, and she makes a sound that makes my hips buck upward without my permission. “Tell you how good your cunt feels wrapped around my cock while I’m buried inside you.”

She moans, head thrown back, throat bared, hips starting to move with my hand in a rhythm that is going to kill me.

I kiss her neck. Then bite, just enough to feel her gasp and arch into it, her pulse jumping against my lips. Her jaw is next, the soft skin there, and I drag my teeth along it slowly before I pull back to take in the deep flush across her chest. Her breasts are right there, the sweater cut low, her cleavage full, warm, and basically in my face. I lose the last negotiation I was having with myself, lean down, and drag my tongue up the swell of one breast before closing my teeth around the soft flesh in a bite that makes her cry out and tighten around my finger all at once.

I slide a second finger inside, and my breath stutters.

She moans louder, so I pull her sweater down slightly, and look at the lace of her bra, the way it cradles her, and I think I actually forget my own name for a second.

“Such a pretty bra,” I murmur against her skin. “Such pretty underwear.” I mouth along the line where lace meets skin. “Did you wear them for yourself?”

“No.” Her voice is wrecked. “For you.”

The sound I make is not dignified. I press my lips to the top of her breast in something that is half a kiss and half a prayer, and my thumb keeps circling, and my fingers keep moving. She continues riding my hand, and I suck a mark into the soft skin above her bra just because I can’t help it.

“Don’t force it, darling,” I murmur against her chest, feeling how she chases the sensation, how her body is hunting it but tensing at the same time. “Just enjoy and breathe.” I keep my rhythm steady. “Let it come.”

She exhales shakily. “I’m so close.”

“Then give it to me. All of it,” I tell her, mouthing down toward the lace while I pull the sweater down one more inch and find her nipple through the fabric of her bra, the dark shape of it visible through the lace, and I close my mouth over it.

The sound she makes arches her whole body into me.

I suck through the fabric, while my thumb adds more pressure and my fingers curl, her thighs trembling on either side of me. I am drowning in the smell of her, and my entire system is short-circuiting because I can feel myself getting close from this alone.

I tell myself firmly that I will not come before she⁠—