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“Joe is out of town for the weekend,” I bite my lower lip. “I thought we could reuse every surface again."
Kyle’s eyebrows dart up. “I think dinner can wait until later.”
He leads me over to the couch, plops down on it. I climb into his lap, straddle him, loop my arms over his shoulders.
His fingers find the back of my neck and he pulls my face to his. Our lips touch and I feel myself explode with desire and need and want.
Kissing Kyle does that to me. Makes everything hazy and fuzzy and soft.
He keeps one hand on my neck while the other wanders over planes of sheer lace. He inhales sharply against my mouth when he slips his fingers between my legs, feels how wet I already am for him through the thin material of my black panties. I grind against his hand, keep my lips locked on his.
"Jenny," he grunts, causing a sly smile to spread across my face.
I stand up, leave behind his body warmth, the minty taste of his mouth. Before I lose my nerve, I slide a strap down one arm. Then the other. Slowly, I remove the bustier, let my breasts drop from the fabric as he watches, excited.
I turn around, look over my shoulder at him as I hook the lacy underwear around my thumbs, work them down my hips, over my thighs, bending over to give him a show.
When I've rid my body of its covering, I settle between his legs, my knees resting on the soft carpet.
"Let me make you feel good," I tell him as I reach for the button on his pants.
His hand cups my cheek. "I always feel good when I'm with you."
I melt into his touch. The feel of his fingers lightly caressing my cheek bone, his palm solid against my jawline.
I push myself up, gently kiss his lips before I settle back between his legs. My fingers carefully unbutton his pants, zip down his zipper, motion for him to lift so I can pull them down his hips, his thighs, his ankles.
My hands glide over his strong thighs, wrap around his boxers, do it all over again.
The tip of his head is already glistening by the time his boxers are long gone, forgotten behind me. I lean forward, lick the bead of creamy white arousal off him.
His hand finds my hair as I taste him. Manly, salty, Kyle.
I grip him in my hand, run my tongue from the base of his shaft to the top, watch as he shudders from the pleasure as my tongue circles his soft head.
"Fuck, Jenny," he chokes out. "Where did you—"
But I take him into my mouth before he can finish. My hand wraps around his base while I get used to how full everything feels. I bob my head slowly, careful not to scrape my teeth against the sensitive parts of him. Wanting to make him feel good, wanting to show him how much I love him.
As I relax, I take him further into me, until he hits the back of my throat and I repress the urge to gag.
Slow, long, languid movements. Him grunting, groaning.
The sounds coming from his throat are hot. So hot.
His hands rest on my shoulders for a moment before floating down my collar bone, squeezing my breasts. My nipples are hard as I push my chest into his hands, begging him to squeeze harder.
We stay like that for a while, until my jaw is tired, drool is dripping down my chin, his thighs, and I need a break.
"Lay on your side," he instructs as he tears his shirt off.
I scoot to the edge of the couch as he climbs in behind me. One arm goes under my head, the other grabs my ass, readjusts my hips so he can enter me from behind.
We've never done it this way before and I feel my heart skip a beat beneath my rib cage in needy anticipation.
It's tighter this way as he moves slowly, cradling my breasts with his arm. I can feel his hard, long body behind me, warm, solid, taut. I close my eyes, get lost in the feel of his body next to mine. How good it feels. How right it feels.
His free hand roams over my stomach, my hip bone, down my thigh. He explores every inch, like it's the first time all over again.
