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I'll definitely do it next time.
So, here we are, minutes later. Hours later? A lifetime later?
I don't even know.
I just know his body on top of mine is the best feeling in the world. He moans and grunts and breathes heavily above me and I think I might melt into a warm pool of honey beneath him. Everything's sticky and scintillating and sweet.
His mouth finds mine and he drowns me in delicious, dangerous kisses. I want more. More, more, more. He's addictive, like the scotch Danny can't seem to stay away from for too long. I just need...one more sip, one more glass, one more moment to lose myself in him.
My arms coil around his neck and I feel myself relax against him. Everything still feels awkward and tight and new down there, but Kyle takes things slow and steady, making sure I feel good.
I just wish I knew what to do other than run my hands over his bare back and spread my legs further apart, giving him more room, more access, more depth. I know he's enjoying it. I can tell by the way his eyes never leave mine and he whispers, "Oh, fuck," when I spontaneously clench around him, pull him deeper inside.
Research.
Yes, I need to do research.
Kyle tears his lips away from mine and holds himself up on his forearm. His hand cups my cheek and he peers down at me, shyly smiles.
My lips split as my mouth mirrors his.
"You feel so good, Jenny," he rasps as he slows his pace, pulls further out, slams harder into me. More friction, less frequency.
Holy shit!
I can't help the moan that leaves my mouth as my head tips back, my breasts collide with his sweat-soaked chest, my whole body seems to convulse beneath him.
Foggy and hot and sweltering. That's all I feel as he wraps his arms around me. He finds my lips again, mumbles, "You're so fucking wet," against my mouth. "And all fucking mine." I'm not sure why, but the sound of him claiming me just makes everything burn brighter.
He keeps going, slides in and out. Harder, then softer. Faster, then slower. My senses are heightened, memorizing every touch of his fingers against my skin, his dark eyelashes fluttering close when he pushes himself completely inside of me before pulling back out, his swollen lips, his flushed cheeks.
God, it's all just so incredibly sexy. And mind-blowing. And perfect.
He grips my thigh, lifts my leg up higher, angles himself deeper inside me, hits something sensitive and throbbing. Wet warmth spills over, seems to slide down my inner thighs. I have no idea what he's doing, but he does it over and over and over and there must be a puddle beneath me now. Can't say I care at this point.
Time seems to stand still as I watch him, feel him, take pleasure from him. I want the moment to last forever, but my stomach muscles are achy, worn, frayed. Everything is just...too much. I don't know how much more I can take before I crumble beneath him.
But then his eyes screw shut and his body tenses as he comes. He shudders, twitches, his muscles contract against my body. I hold onto him as tight as I can, blissfully aware it was my body that gave him pleasure.
Me.
We lay tangled up in each other for a while, his arms wrapped around my arms and his legs and mine clinging to each other for dear life.
I feel safe, protected, treasured as he keeps me tucked safely against his body, kisses my forehead, runs his hand up and down my bare arm, asks me how I feel, how it felt, if I'm alright.
Once he's certain I'm fine, he checks his phone, groans when he sees the time.
9:21.
Our time up here is almost over.
"I can't remember lasting that long before," he smirks against the side of my face.
"How long do you normally last?" I ask as I subtly hide my face in his chest, refusing to look up at him. For some reason, asking him how long his penis has been in other girls is embarrassing and awkward.
Can't imagine why.
"Maybe 10 minutes tops," he guesses. "On a good day."
