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I caress her curves as I skim my lips over the fine silk of her throat. Her scent incites my olfactory senses and screws with my brain. Desire flares even hotter, the flames threatening to torch my self-control, and I haven’t even gotten her naked. What is this woman doing to me?
I swipe one last kiss across her soft lips before I explore my way to the plump swells of her breasts that spill over her bra. The lace obstruction has to go.
After working my hand beneath her, I feel my way to the clasp. She arches, easing my access. A few seconds and a pinch of my fingers later, I toss her bra across the room and stare down at her tight berry nipples.
I’m speechless.
I cup her breasts in awe. They fit perfectly in my hands. They’re everything I imagined when I salivated over them. They’re everything I fantasized about as I pleasured myself last night. And I can’t wait to get them in my mouth.
Dipping my head, I suck and lick at her left nipple, my tongue laving her softness as I gently knead her breasts with both hands. A little gasp escapes her when I nip at her sensitive crest. Then she arches up, inviting me to do it again.
Greedily, I accept.
For long minutes, I lavish that nipple with all my attention, drinking her in, alternating between suction and soft swipes of my tongue until her distended tip is sensitive to my every touch. Then, as I shift my focus to the other crest, I glance at Kiera’s face. Her eyes are closed. She’s lost in utter bliss and completely open to me in every way.
Her honesty and trust are breathtakingly beautiful.
During sex, I usually don’t even take the time to appreciate a woman’s face. I focus on her tits, on her pussy or ass, on pleasure in general. I listen to her sounds. I gauge her arousal by the desperation of her touch. I get her to orgasm quickly so I can follow and get the hell out. But this—watching desire spill across Kiera’s soft features—doesn’t merely stiffen my cock; it hits me somewhere in the chest. I’m doing that to her. I’m making her feel good. I’m giving her something she wants and needs.
That makes me feel amazing.
In rapt fascination, I watch Kiera writhe as I lower my head and kiss, lick, pinch, and caress her other nipple, lavishing the attention on it that I gave the first. Her face is a revelation.
That’s just the beginning, sweetheart.
That’s what I silently promise her as I kiss my way down her sternum and past her belly button, heading straight for the holy grail in her teeny-tiny panties.
“You still good?” I ask.
“Yes,” she whines. “Don’t stop. Please.”
“I won’t.” I glide my palms up her thighs until I find the elastic of her underwear clinging to her hips and pull the little white garment down, tossing it aside. The second they’re gone, her feminine musk hits my nostrils.
“How do you feel?” I ask as I lay beside her again.
“Amazing.” She looks up at me with welcoming eyes. “I want more.”
“With pleasure,” I promise as I work two fingers inside her.
Gasping, Kiera tightens on my digits, clamping down and crushing me. I can’t wait to get inside of her, to feel her surround and grip me. To be as close to her as a man can be.
Curbing my impatience, I curl my fingers inside her, then press my thumb against her clit, making small, slow circles. Her moans turn louder, breathier, more urgent. Her hands fist into balls as she grips the sheet. Her eyes are shut tight as she loses herself in the sensation. She’s getting close to that orgasm. And watching her unravel for me is everything.
“Please, please,” she implores. “It’s right there. I can feel… Oh, god.”
“I like it when you beg.” I whisper.
“Jonathan…” Her breathing accelerates, and her hips lift. “Oh. Oh.Oh!”
With that, she comes completely undone, back arched, her mouth shaped in a shocked little O. Her eyes squeeze shut as her whole body bucks and her sweet nectar coats my fingers.
Watching her orgasm might be the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. It’s satisfying to know I’ve given her pleasure, but it’s thrilling as fuck to know I’m the first man. The only man.
I have this suspicion that once I taste her…there will be no going back. But that’s a later-me problem. Or am I getting carried away? Yeah. I probably need to downshift. Be cool. Treat this like any other one-night stand. How else can she learn?
But when I look at her again—now wide-eyed and rosy-cheeked, eyes misty and full of wonder—all I care about is making her feel good again.
Slowly, I pull my fingers free and slip them into my mouth, closing my eyes as I savor her sweet juice. “You taste amazing, Kiera.”
