The honeyed sweetness gets everywhere. It’s on our tongues, our cheeks, our lips, and our kisses seem to alternate between lapping at each other’s skin and tangling tongues. It’s messy and wet and delicious and I’m so in love with this gorgeous woman.
“Happy birthday to me,” I whisper, and lick her upper lip.
She whimpers, and the sound of it warms my heart and sends heat pulsing between my thighs.
I want to do more. So much more. Her collarbone shows a faint red mark from my hungry mouth, and I take another swipe into the icing, then paint it over the spot. I lick the icing off, and her head tilts back, her sagging in my arms. “Just nowhere near the belt or below.”
“Absolutely not,” I say between licks, my arm at her waist. “That’s where my mouth goes.”
Simone moans. “Here I’ve been dreaming about doing that to you.”
“We can take turns. I’m not greedy.” I nip at the cleavage peeking out from the neck of her tunic. “Actually, I might be a bit greedy.”
Her laughter is breathless. “You can be greedy with me.”
Good. I move further down and bite at the tip of one breast through her clothing.
Simone cries out, and then her hands are in my hair, holding me there. Now I’m the one groaning, my hand cupping one breast as I tongue her nipple, wetting the point of it through the fabric. I’ve given up on the idea of stopping, of not being with her. I can’t walk away from her or her soft cries, her desperate whimpers, the fingers laced in my hair holding me close.
We’ll just have to figure something out…tomorrow. Tonight, I want to touch her.
I bite at her nipple through her clothing again, then look up. “Sit on the counter.”
“You’re so bossy,” she breathes, even as she shoves the cake aside and hops up on the counter behind her. “I love it.”
Good, because I don’t think I can stop being bossy when it comes to her. I’m ravenous, desperate to touch her everywhere. I grab the waistline of her pants and tug it down, and she shifts her weight atop the counter to help me drag them down to her ankles. Once they’re off, I toss them aside. Her eyes areluminous as she watches me, her now-tangled ponytail teasing her shoulder.
I move forward and spread her thighs reverently. She leans back against the wall, her gaze on me as I slide toward her.
Her pussy is beautiful. The lips are slightly uneven, one side peeking out more than the other. She has darker, crinkly hair here, and it cups the flushed, shiny skin that promises to be as wet as it looks. She’s natural and slightly imperfect, and I love that because it makes her unique. No other pussy will look like hers, and it feels a bit like I’ve uncovered a treasure.
“Are you shy?” I ask her, as she’s gone silent.
“No. It’s just been a while.”
There’s a hint of uncertainty in her gaze, and it makes me ache for her. I don’t know what she went through in her captivity. She hasn’t volunteered it, and I haven’t asked. But I know it’s a big step to jump into sex again after being abused. I want her to feel loved and cherished and beautiful. “Do you want me to stop? You know we can at any time.”
“I don’t want to stop.” She reaches out and caresses my cheek with one hand. “I promise I’m fine.”
I’m going to make sure she’s fine, I decide. Just in case.
Stepping back, I take one slender foot in my hand. It’s a long foot, because Simone is taller than I am. It’s still beautiful and elegant, though. I press a kiss to the arch, reverent. “I don’t want to stop, either.”
And then I begin kissing up her leg.
I treat her like I would a fragile musical instrument or a delicate work of art. I caress her with light touches, appreciating and admiring as I stroke her leg and kiss her skin. I love the softness of her body, the jiggle in her thigh, the arch of her foot. There’s a fine down of hair on her legs and I love that, too. It says that she’s comfortable around me, and comfortable enough in her skin that she doesn’t feel like she has to shave. Some loversmight not like it, but I do. I love everything about her—body hair and all—and adore all of it.
Slowly, I trail kisses up her leg and toward the inside of her thigh. And then I pause.
Simone breathes out softly, her fingers carding through my hair. “I promise you can touch me.”
I glance up at her. I love the way she looks, all tousled and blurry with arousal. I want to put my fingers inside her, to feel her body clench around my hand. But I think about the icing again. I lift two of my fingers and suck on them as our eyes meet, cleaning them with my mouth.
She moans, watching me. When my wet fingers emerge, she grabs my hand and leans in, sucking on those same fingers. Her hot, hungry mouth makes me achy, my pussy throbbing with need. I want to touch myself to the sight of disheveled Simone, her legs spread in invitation.
I tug her forward, moving her toward the edge of the counter and angling her body so her pussy is presented properly. “I’m going to taste you now.”
“God, I wish you would.” Her hand slides down to her thigh, creeping towards her sex.
