“Good for you,” she says. “Do you want a sticker, or should I suck your cock?”
I shake my head. That sassy mouth of hers is going to get her into trouble one day and I can only hope I’m there to witness it. And then dole out the punishments later.
“You have mentioned multiple ways you’re going to make me come?—”
“Is there a problem with that plan?” she asks, arching a brow.
“Yes and no. I can’t wait for my orgasm, but what about yours?”
Instead of assuring me that she’s dying to fall apart under my touch, Claire just rolls her eyes. “Oh god, you’re one of those ones, aren’t you?”
“The kind of guy who gives his partners orgasms? Uh, yeah.”
“I should have known,” she says sighing.
“Is that a bad thing?” I ask, wondering what the hell is happening. Holy shit, has this all been a dream? Did I land in some bizarre sleep state where everything looks normal, but is actually batshit? That would track, considering Claire’s standing half naked before me while her hand is on my cock.
“I don’t come when I have sex,” she tells me, matter-of-factly. “And don’t even start with the wholeI can make you see stars, babybullshit. You can’t, trust me. And yes, I know the difference between a clitoral orgasm and a penetrative one. And I know not all women come from p-in-v sex. That’s not what I’m talking about. We’re gonna have sex, Pete. Judging from the way you fill out a pair of shorts, we’re gonna have damn good sex. But I won’t come. Not if youdo that trigger finger thing, or the swirly business with your thumb. They’re great moves, don’t get me wrong. They make me feel really good. But as far as tipping me over the edge? That’s not gonna happen.”
“Has it ever happened?” I ask, unable to stop myself.
“When I’m alone with a vibrator in my hand, yes,” she answers. “And sometimes with just my hand, no batteries required. But not usually with a partner. And don’t get all macho-alpha-cave-hole on me, okay? You’re not less of a man because you won’t make me come and I’m not less of a woman because I don’t find my release with a partner.”
After nodding my understanding, I grip her waist and pull her close so I can taste the sweet, hardened peaks of her nipples. I take my time lavishing attention on each one. If Claire thinks I’m going to lecture her on the way her body works or try to coach her to completion or some shit, she’s wrong. Do I want her to be satisfied? Hell yes. Am I going to take my damn time giving her as much pleasure as I can? Again, hell yes. There’s one thing Claire wants more than anything, something she absolutely craves. And it’s not an orgasm from me. Not yet, anyway.
Claire wants to be heard. Listened to. Understood. And I can give that to her. So I do.
Pivoting slightly to the left, I guide Claire to the worn leather couch that leans up against the south-facing wall. Sinking onto the cushions, I tug her on top of me. It’s the perfect position for me to capture her breasts in my mouth once more. And if that action has her grinding down on my cock, well, so be it.
“Are we done talking?” she asks, rocking herself onto my cock.
“Hell yes,” I answer, cupping her left breast in my hand. “My mouth has better things to do.”
Unfortunately, we’re both still wearing clothes. They’ve started to dry, which is a good thing, since it makes them a little easier to remove. Sure, this is probably something we should have done while we were still standing up, but I’m not ever going to complain about having a half-naked Claire Fowler on my lap.
She’s straddling my thighs, and once again, I’m fucking grateful for those long, toned legs of hers. Putting her weight on her knees, she lifts her body up, breaking contact with the hard ridge of my erection for a second so that I can tug at her shorts. That only gets us so far, so she shimmies off the couch to let her shorts and bikini bottoms fall to the floor. Claire Fowler is gloriously naked in front of me and my cock presses up against my board short like it’s about to bust free. Placing her hands on the hem of the fabric, she pulls at it while I lift my hips. My shorts join her clothes as she puts a hand on her hip and looks around.
“I’m right here where you left me,” I joke, but she just rolls her eyes.
“Is it too much to hope you’ve got a condom in that big-ass backpack?” She’s biting her lip in the cutest way. And if you ever tell Claire I used the word “cute” as a reference to her, I’ll call you a liar.
“There should be a couple in the front pouch. That’s where most of the first aid stuff is.”
She turns toward the table where I laid my bag and unzips the pouch I was pointing to. I’m dying to get her back over her and on top of me, but the view I have of her ass right now is pretty damn spectacular. I take a moment to look my fill, but a few seconds later, she holds the foil strip up in triumph and turns back toward me. This view is pretty fucking fantastic, too. Claire’s body is athletic. She’s not dainty or tiny in the least, but she’s not curvy and voluptuous either. She’s tall and toned and thick in all theright places. Dropping the condoms on the couch next to me, she crawls back onto my lap, dragging her sweet pussy across my aching length. We’re playing with fire, so I rip one of the condoms from the row, tear the package open, and slide it onto my length. Fisting the base, I give myself a hard squeeze, like I’m reminding my dick to play it fucking cool. This is not our first rodeo. Granted, it’s the first one in a while, and the fucking best one I’ve ever been to, even though it’s barely just started.
Claire’s no-orgasm policy has me feeling a little off my game. Honestly, though, I get it. If she doesn’t come from partnered sex, but it still makes her feel good, then she should get to enjoy the hell out of it. And fuck the guys she’s been with for making it all about them. Although, I’ve gotta admit, I’m not quite sure how to proceed here. Typically, the first order of business would be to get Claire off at least once before she gets that hot mouth or that pretty cunt on me. But she’s made it clear that’s not my mission. It’s still my goal, but I’m not telling her that. And even if she doesn’t climax, I’m dying to get my hands and lips on her.
She sinks back down onto my lap so that the vee of her thighs cradles my sheathed cock, then she rubs up against me like torturing me is her favorite thing to do. Hell, I guess it is.
Instinctively, my hand covers her mound. She gasps as my thumb parts her folds and throws her head back in ecstasy when I find her wet and ready for me. I use my fingers to paint her pretty lips with her arousal and the curse she mutters is a compliment I didn’t know I was waiting for. What the fuck was I doing second-guessing myself?
She’s giving me a fucking gift and I’ll be damned if I waste one second of it worrying about the playbook. Fuckthe playbook. The only objective I have is to make Claire feel good. She doesn’t know it, but I’ve been fantasizing about this scenario for the better part of three years. Did I ever think for a second that I’d have a shot with her? Hell no. But now that my shot is here, I’m gonna play my damn heart out.
My fingers keep playing with her pussy, like I’ve got all the time in the world. I mean, eventually we’ll have to leave this cabin, but the rain is still beating a steady rhythm on the rooftop, so there’s no need for me to hurry. Besides, Claire’s making the best noises as she writhes on my lap, and there’s no way in hell I want to rush this.
“Touch me,” she practically begs, pressing her core insistently against my hand.
Slipping one finger inside her, I moan out loud at the way her body pulls me in. She clenches around me while I tease and explore, still taking my time to savor every second I have with her.
