“Very much so.”
“Enlighten me?”
I kiss the head, then suction my lips around the head and suckle while swirling my tongue against him. “It’s a kind of contrariness, you might say.” Another kiss, another lick. I watch his face, enjoying the expression ofhis-brain-is-a-puddle-of-goointensifying with each movement of my mouth on him, each touch of my tongue.
I caress him with my hands while I answer him. “Most of the time, I get an impression like it’s expected of me. Which is like a light switch for me—immediate turn-off. No chance.”
“I don’t…I don’t expect anything.”
I rub my thumb over the tip, my other hand slowly pumping at his base. “I know, Thai. And that’s why I’m doing this. You were all set to do all this amazing stuff for me. You never even hinted at what I might want to do for you, or what you want me to do to you.”
“Because I’m more concerned with what we can do together.” He meets my eyes. “I’m more concerned with how I can make you feel good.” He attempts to pull me to my feet. “You had a long weekend. I want to pamper you. Relax you.” He swallows hard, brows furrowing when I resist his attempts to pull me away from him. “Make you feel good. Show you that I—show you how much you mean to me.”
“What you’ve planned for me is not lost on me, Thai—trust me. And you will do everything you’ve got planned and more.” I palm his balls with one hand and massage them gently, smirking and biting my lip around an amused huff as his eyes literally cross. “After I’ve gotten whatIwant. Because when I tell you that I had wet dreams and daydreams about doing this to you, all weekend long, I am in no way exaggerating.”
I plunge my other hand around him, a little faster now. Smile up at him as he swallows as if doing it requires active concentration. As if he has to remind himself to breathe.
“Why?”
“Why?” I laugh. Put my lips around him and swirl my tongue against him and then plunge him to the back of my throat, as far as I feel comfortable. Swallow around him. Back away. “Same reason you’re going to enjoy going down on me, once you’ve got me on that table. It makes me feel good. And you get off on my pleasure almost as much as you get off on your own.”
“More,” he whispers. “Your pleasure is more important to me than my own.”
“I know,” I answer, in a whisper of my own. I stroke him, one-handed, still cupping his sack with the other. “Now. Stop asking questions and let me focus on making you feel good.”
He groans a ragged sigh as I continue the gentle massaging cradle of his heavy balls and begin a slow rhythm with my mouth, up and down, licking at the apex and swallow at the bottom of the movement.
Faster.
He hisses through gritted teeth. His eyes wrench open and his brow furrows, watching as his cock disappears into my mouth, my jaw stretched wide to accommodate his immensity. “Fucking hell, Dee,” he growls.
I smile around him, or try to communicate a smile without being able to actually move my mouth—it’s otherwisefullyoccupied.
He’s tensed, now, and I know he’s close. I’m learning him. He doesn’t want it to end and doesn’t want to forget himself and start thrusting and risk hurting me, so he freezes and goes tense all over, muscles isometrically clenched.
I want his orgasm. Now.
It’s all I’m focused on. The taste of him, salt and skin and musk of pre-cum. The feel of him sliding through my lips. Against my throat. Filling my mouth until I have to swallow around him. The way he groans continuously. The way his hands snarl in my hair as if only just barely holding himself back from pulling me onto him harder, faster.
I don’t know that I’d mind if he did. I want him unbridled. Fierce and unrestrained.
“Oh god, Delia. Dee, fuck, fuck, your mouth is fucking…fucking heaven.” His voice is a ragged, broken thing.
I taste him nearing the edge.
His hips flex, now, helplessly.
I grasp his cock in both hands and stroke him, just beneath my lips, helping him to the end of his control, to the end of his ability to hold back.
In the split second before he comes, he does something unexpected, and in so doing, makes one of my fantasies come true: he rips himself away from me, staggering backward with a hoarse grunt of wild effort, every muscle strained and his breathing deep ragged gasps as if he just sprinted a hundred meters full out. Stomach heaving. Abs braced hard. Cock straining, standing flat upright against his belly, leaking at the tip.
His eyes are wild, almost angry with the ferocity of his need. “Iwantyou, Delia.” He’s a raging god of sexual primacy, muscles veined and bulging, a sheen of sweat coating his body as if the sheer physical demand of pulling away and holding off his climax required a herculean effort. “Needyou.”
I stand up and prowl toward him, and when he catches back up against the massage table, I throw myself against him, bury my fingers in his hair. “Thai, you have no fucking idea how hot that was.” I feel him throbbing between our bodies. I could lift up on my toes and take him into me, right now, so easily.
The temptation is intense. My whole being demands it.
NEED.
