Tight
Page 11
Thank God the man listened. He moved to his feet, pulling his finger from me and moving it to his mouth. Sucking on his forefinger, he stared down at me. I stepped forward, pulled his finger from his lips and replaced it with my tongue, the man taking my mouth as if he owned it, his hands gripping me to him, his kiss hard and dominant.
I fell back on the bed, his body above me, knees moving to either side of me as he took a final pull on my mouth before sitting up, skimming his fingers down my breasts, the lines of my stomach, hooking into the sides of my panties and dragging them over my hips, his body rolling off me enough to free my body from the last bit of resistance.
“My turn,” I breathed, sitting up and reaching for his belt. He obliged, rolling onto his back and letting me unbutton his shirt.
I am nervous. I realized it as my fingers looped buttons through holes, each minor accomplishment revealing inch after inch of strong chest, covered by a thin layer of hair. He was a man, more man than anyone I had been with. My last boyfriend was a leftover from college, a frat boy turned pharmacist, who never let go of the shaggy haircut that every boy from the South seems to don like a badge of honor. This man, whose chest was strong and wide, his eyes dark and heated, his touch, which trailed patiently down my back, was firm and confident.
I pulled at his shirt, tugging fabric from pants until abs were fully exposed, a line of thicker hair leading down the ripped path of his stomach to a belt buckle, a break of skin against dark fabric. I slowed down, pulled hesitantly on the leather, the cold metal of the clasp so foreign in this hot bed of sexual tension. Then his hands pushed me aside, three quick movements having his pants undone, zipper down, belt open, and cock out.
The groan out of me was unstoppable. It rumbled, turned into a hiss, and then my hesitation was gone, and I pounced on it, diving with greedy lips, my frantic fingers trying to pull him down the bed, as I slid down his body and onto my knees on the carpet. I needed it all. I needed to feel the slide of skin against stiff, needed to feel it respond on my tongue. I wanted to taste every inch of it. Suck on his head until he gasped. Take him as far down my throat as I could, damn the gag reflex. Obsessively worship him with my mouth until he was half as hungry with lust as I was.
I couldn’t believe I was doing this. On my knees, in a stranger’s hotel room, his body following my lead, sliding to the end of the bed, sitting up, his hand settling on the back of my head, pushing with encouragement as I took his gorgeous cock in my mouth. I was naked in front of this man, any prior relationship with modesty having jumped ship, his eyes nothing but worshiping in their perusal of my curves.
He was almost without taste and my mouth worked hard, yearning for a response, the squeeze of sweet hitting my tongue. And, despite my subservient position on my knees, it was empowering to have his most sensitive organ in my mouth. I looked up at him, my eyes watering slightly as he took the moment to pull me further onto his cock. God, the look in his eyes. Singular focus on me. His mouth opened slightly as I increased the pressure of my suction. The ownership of his stare even as his lids dropped slightly, my name came out as a hiss on his lips.
“Get up,” he growled. “I need to be inside of you now.”
His hands were suddenly on my wrists, stopping my motion on his cock. Lifting me to my feet, I was on the bed before I could think, my back dragging across the duvet as he put me into place.
A slowing of time. His hands firm and patient as they spread my legs, opened me before him. Any concern I had over my naked body, the pounds I really should have shed before hitting vacation mode in a bikini ... everything was wiped away by the shudder in his sigh, the look in his eyes as he drank me in, his fingers opening me up, his mouth lowering for a few back-arching seconds as his tongue dipped inside of me.
Then he withdrew. Dragged his fingers down my legs and stopped at my ankle. Worked the strap with his fingers, caressed the curves of my foot as he pulled off the stiletto.
“Is this what you want?”
“My shoes to be taken off?”
The heel dropped to the floor with a soft thud. I looked down, past the V of my legs, at the naked man before me, a hand settling on the outward jut of his cock, wrapping around its base, stroking it as he stared at me, met my eyes, for one silent moment. Salty air swept over my skin, my legs still spread, fingers of coolness softly brushing over my open slit. I was so wet I could feel a drop sliding down the crack of my ass.
“This. What I’m about to do. Is it what you want?”
“Yes.” I didn’t need to hesitate before speaking the words. I didn’t need to think, to analyze. I threw reason and safety and good decisions out the window as soon as I walked through the door to this suite. I traded logic for a touch that I desperately craved, a connection that was dropping that perfect cock and moving to my other foot. Working the straps to that heel. Fingers teasing the arch and ankle there.
The heel came off in his hand, and he tossed it away. Gripped my ankle, moved his knees on the bed, until he was before me, his cock placed against the wet mound. His hands on my inner thighs, delicate movements that were turning rougher, stronger. He pressed on the back of my knees, lifted my legs until my thighs brushed my stomach, shoved forward with his hips, and dragged his hardness back and forth over my clit.
I whimpered. I couldn’t help myself. I could feel the loss of control, feel the breakdown of my mind as pleasure took over and I became a loose mess of want before him. I was so close to begging, needed his cock an inch lower so badly I was two steps away from taking that matter into my own hands. “Please.” The word slipped from my lips as he continued, the underside of his cock now slick with my juices, the steady drag on my clit so perfect that my plea was suddenly counterproductive seeing as the only thing I wanted to do right then was stay in the moment until I broke.
I fell back on the bed, his body above me, knees moving to either side of me as he took a final pull on my mouth before sitting up, skimming his fingers down my breasts, the lines of my stomach, hooking into the sides of my panties and dragging them over my hips, his body rolling off me enough to free my body from the last bit of resistance.
“My turn,” I breathed, sitting up and reaching for his belt. He obliged, rolling onto his back and letting me unbutton his shirt.
I am nervous. I realized it as my fingers looped buttons through holes, each minor accomplishment revealing inch after inch of strong chest, covered by a thin layer of hair. He was a man, more man than anyone I had been with. My last boyfriend was a leftover from college, a frat boy turned pharmacist, who never let go of the shaggy haircut that every boy from the South seems to don like a badge of honor. This man, whose chest was strong and wide, his eyes dark and heated, his touch, which trailed patiently down my back, was firm and confident.
I pulled at his shirt, tugging fabric from pants until abs were fully exposed, a line of thicker hair leading down the ripped path of his stomach to a belt buckle, a break of skin against dark fabric. I slowed down, pulled hesitantly on the leather, the cold metal of the clasp so foreign in this hot bed of sexual tension. Then his hands pushed me aside, three quick movements having his pants undone, zipper down, belt open, and cock out.
The groan out of me was unstoppable. It rumbled, turned into a hiss, and then my hesitation was gone, and I pounced on it, diving with greedy lips, my frantic fingers trying to pull him down the bed, as I slid down his body and onto my knees on the carpet. I needed it all. I needed to feel the slide of skin against stiff, needed to feel it respond on my tongue. I wanted to taste every inch of it. Suck on his head until he gasped. Take him as far down my throat as I could, damn the gag reflex. Obsessively worship him with my mouth until he was half as hungry with lust as I was.
I couldn’t believe I was doing this. On my knees, in a stranger’s hotel room, his body following my lead, sliding to the end of the bed, sitting up, his hand settling on the back of my head, pushing with encouragement as I took his gorgeous cock in my mouth. I was naked in front of this man, any prior relationship with modesty having jumped ship, his eyes nothing but worshiping in their perusal of my curves.
He was almost without taste and my mouth worked hard, yearning for a response, the squeeze of sweet hitting my tongue. And, despite my subservient position on my knees, it was empowering to have his most sensitive organ in my mouth. I looked up at him, my eyes watering slightly as he took the moment to pull me further onto his cock. God, the look in his eyes. Singular focus on me. His mouth opened slightly as I increased the pressure of my suction. The ownership of his stare even as his lids dropped slightly, my name came out as a hiss on his lips.
“Get up,” he growled. “I need to be inside of you now.”
His hands were suddenly on my wrists, stopping my motion on his cock. Lifting me to my feet, I was on the bed before I could think, my back dragging across the duvet as he put me into place.
A slowing of time. His hands firm and patient as they spread my legs, opened me before him. Any concern I had over my naked body, the pounds I really should have shed before hitting vacation mode in a bikini ... everything was wiped away by the shudder in his sigh, the look in his eyes as he drank me in, his fingers opening me up, his mouth lowering for a few back-arching seconds as his tongue dipped inside of me.
Then he withdrew. Dragged his fingers down my legs and stopped at my ankle. Worked the strap with his fingers, caressed the curves of my foot as he pulled off the stiletto.
“Is this what you want?”
“My shoes to be taken off?”
The heel dropped to the floor with a soft thud. I looked down, past the V of my legs, at the naked man before me, a hand settling on the outward jut of his cock, wrapping around its base, stroking it as he stared at me, met my eyes, for one silent moment. Salty air swept over my skin, my legs still spread, fingers of coolness softly brushing over my open slit. I was so wet I could feel a drop sliding down the crack of my ass.
“This. What I’m about to do. Is it what you want?”
“Yes.” I didn’t need to hesitate before speaking the words. I didn’t need to think, to analyze. I threw reason and safety and good decisions out the window as soon as I walked through the door to this suite. I traded logic for a touch that I desperately craved, a connection that was dropping that perfect cock and moving to my other foot. Working the straps to that heel. Fingers teasing the arch and ankle there.
The heel came off in his hand, and he tossed it away. Gripped my ankle, moved his knees on the bed, until he was before me, his cock placed against the wet mound. His hands on my inner thighs, delicate movements that were turning rougher, stronger. He pressed on the back of my knees, lifted my legs until my thighs brushed my stomach, shoved forward with his hips, and dragged his hardness back and forth over my clit.
I whimpered. I couldn’t help myself. I could feel the loss of control, feel the breakdown of my mind as pleasure took over and I became a loose mess of want before him. I was so close to begging, needed his cock an inch lower so badly I was two steps away from taking that matter into my own hands. “Please.” The word slipped from my lips as he continued, the underside of his cock now slick with my juices, the steady drag on my clit so perfect that my plea was suddenly counterproductive seeing as the only thing I wanted to do right then was stay in the moment until I broke.
