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His tongue circles me and strokes across my clit and down to my pussy. Gripping my thighs, he pulls me more firmly against his mouth, and I have to hold onto his shoulders for support. He’s teasing me. Drawing patterns with his tongue that make my hips jerk but don’t send me over the edge. “Please,” I say to him. “I need this.”
Without a word, he reaches up grabbing me around the waist and lowering me onto the blanket. I thought it was good before, but now, it’s explosive. Thomas feasts on me like a starving man, his mouth consuming me. He’s changed his pattern, and now the rhythmic movement of his tongue on my clit has me hovering on the precipice. I reach down and run my fingers through his hair, gripping and pulling his mouth harder against me. I love it. This was worth the wait and I never want it to stop.
I’m close, so close, and he runs his tongue across all of me, circling, sucking, and back again. His teeth scrape my clit, and I go over the edge, falling into a deep and shuddering orgasm that goes on for what feels like hours. My pussy floods his mouth and he laps it up, drinking me, still licking me so that the pleasure keeps going.
There’s a trace of moonlight, and when he pulls away from me there’s the sheen of my juices on his mouth. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen anything so erotic. I pull him up so he’s on top of me and start working on his buttons. “You’re in a hurry,” he murmurs.
I pause for a second and look up at him. “Yes, I am. I want you inside me. Now.”
“How can I say no to that?” He strips off his shirt and pants and I get rid of the rest of my clothes. We come back together naked and I take the condom from him, relishing the feel of his cock in my hand as I roll it on. He pushes my legs up, and I’m bent almost in half. He slides into me and I groan. It’s loud in the open field and I bite my lip against the sound. The way he’s pushing into me feels so good, and the angle with my legs gives him all the control.
Thomas uses short, fast thrusts, angling up, and light suddenly explodes behind my eyes. I come again, hard and fast, and I hear his low laugh as he slows down his pace and thrusts in deeper. “That was good,” I say.
That smirk on his face is back. “I know.”
I can’t speak after that. I try to keep the sounds I’m making from calling anyone’s attention—not that I’m expecting anyone—but it’s hard, because Thomas doesn’t hold back. He’s fucking me like it’s his job to make me come. Long, sure strokes driving me back to the peak, and there’s no chance of me keeping quiet this time. He still has control of my legs and he spreads them wide, his palms on my thighs. The stretch makes me tighter around him, and my back arches off the blanket because holy fuck. The friction of him inside me has me drowning in that pleasure just at the edge and I love it. My hands are searching for anything to hold on to and I find blanket and grass and then I’m crying out into the open air.
The orgasm rips through me, brutal and overwhelming. I go blind with it, my body going tense and then limp with the pleasure. And I’m reveling in the delicious pleasure of it as he keeps going, so close. He grinds himself against me and another tiny orgasm zings through my clit before he buries himself deep inside me with a stifled groan. I feel his cock jump inside, and I know he came. I’m dazed with pleasure, and I’m not sure if all the stars that I’m seeing are real or just sparkling aftershocks.
Thomas rolls beside me, holding me close. It’s not cold, but the body heat is welcome. “Better?” he asks.
“Much.”
We don’t say anything for a few minutes, catching our breath.
“So,” he starts. “How are things at the bakery?”
“Not as good as I’d like,” I say, still a bit winded. “I just don’t know if we can have the kind of improvement that your father is looking for by the time we need it. Honestly, most of it is things that we can’t control.”
I tell him about the complaints of our distance from the towns more popular areas, the lack of students, the fact that the building is hard to find even if you’re looking for it with a magnifying glass. “It doesn’t look good,” I finish.
“There’s still a chance,” he says, and then, after a moment, “And how are you?”
